Please Come For Me
by GuiltyByDefault
Summary: 9yo Harry gets abused at the Dursley's. When a muggle pediatrician finds out, Harry is placed in the care of Severus Snape who is now facing the greatest struggle of his life – healing a child that reminds him more of himself than he likes. As both work through their issues, they find out that they have more in common than apparent on first sight. Bonding/Mentoring fic. RESUMED!
1. Doctor's Visit

**Disclaimer:** I do not make any money with this. No copyright infringement intended. All rights belong to J.K.R.. This applies to all following chapters too and will not be repeated.

 **Synopsis:** Harry gets abused at the Dursley's and when a muggle pediatrician finds out, Harry is placed in the care of Severus Snape who is now facing the greatest struggle of his life – healing a small child that reminds him more of himself than he likes. Will he be up to the challenge?

 **What's different from the books?** This story contains several ideas and characters which were never in the books. Major changes: Harry does not live in the cupboard, he already has the little room upstairs with all the padlocks and in this story he is about 9 years old, quite a bit before he discovers that he has magical abilities. Consequently most of the characters in the book will not be introduced (as of yet and I am not sure which ones I will include). Also he does not need to wear his glasses, apart from that appearance is pretty much the same.

 **WARNINGS** : This is an abuse story. I don't think that it is unrealistic and the major focus lies on the interaction between characters and the building dynamics of abusive relationships, but abuse it described graphically at some points. Rated T for safety and now I come to think about it, possibly language, too.

 **OOCness:** NICE Snape (I tried to keep him in character and explain changes, but to me he was always very misunderstood and no snarky git!) MANIPULATIVE Dumbledore (the usual 'he-thought-he-knew-best-for-all' attitude), and a NOT SO BAD Petunia as you might think. No one ever seems to give Petunia much thought.

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 1 - Doctor's Visit**

Harry doubted that this was ever going to stop. He pinched his nose, but the blood drops just keep dripping down his nose, ran across his chin and stained his shirt. He hadn't bothered to look for some tissues. As Uncle Vernon had put it he ' _was too filthy to touch any of their things_ ' even if it was for the sake of keeping his blood off their precious belongings. He kept holding his head high so none of the blood drops would fall onto the floor, but this only caused the blood to run down his throat, leaving a disgusting iron taste in his mouth.

 _Just need to wait until it has dried, then I can go wash it off... if Uncle Vernon ever decides to unlock my door again that is,_ Harry thought bitterly. _Although, if he didn't, maybe all the better…_

Harry gingerly laid his sore body onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. His eyes wandered from the cracked and stained wallpaper to the window which was shutting out most of the bright sunlight shining down on Little Whinging as Vernon had nailed several boards across it from the outside. Just now and then a little ray of sunlight made its way through to Harry, taking advantage of some slits Vernon had not fully managed to close up in his hurry. After all, he was quite erratic and had a temper. He looked for quick fixes, not pretty ones.

 _Maybe_ , Harry thought, _I could put up a picture in this room someday. One with a dragon!_

Harry loved dragons. He had once heard a little boy talk about them, just outside near the playground. The boy seemed to be speaking about some kind of fantasy movie at the theatre. Harry had never been to the theatre and wondered what it was like. But it seemed to be some place you had to go to with your friends. _I don't have any..._ Harry thought. _Probably I wouldn't be allowed in._

The boy had even shown drawings to his friend before Dudley had managed to sneak up on Harry and push him from behind, causing him to stumble terribly and finally fall flat-faced onto the ground in front of the two boys. They giggled, then ran off once the idea struck them that Dudley might be coming a little too close. One of the drawings had fallen to the ground but before he could take another look at it or even touch it, Dudley had snatched it away from his reach and torn it into pieces. _'This is just as stupid as you are anyway...idiot'_ , he had sneered at him.

Well. At least he could dream.

That night he had tried to think hard about the dragon. He had closed his eyes and imagined what it had looked like, trying to imagine what _his_ dragon would look like. Of course it would be very beautiful and very tough. He gave him a very strong armoured skin with black scales and fiercely pointing midnight blue eyes. Also he had to have a very long horny tail and large wings. By the time Harry had finished _his_ dragon, it probably looked more like a giant bat which had been blended into something that, Harry figured, a dinosaur could possibly look like.

There were sounds coming from downstairs. Harry looked to the door, lying on his bed rather guardedly. He was ready to jump any minute if necessary, but then he remembered the padlocks. While they kept him from going anywhere, they also gave him some seconds of notice in advance before somebody entered his room, adding some sense of security. Uncle Vernon couldn't possibly come in here without making a racket.

Yet Harry wondered when he would be let out again. Sometimes he feared Uncle Vernon might just forget about him, but usually those moments passed quickly. Even if Vernon tried to keep him out of sight for as long as possible, there was usually something that needed to be done, along with the long list of chores he had to do already on a daily basis.

Despite the tempting idea to lock the boy away for the whole summer, the urge to heap an even greater workload on the boy was just too tempting to resist for Vernon. He just couldn't keep him locked up inside his room where he would be lying around lazily not doing anything at all when so many chores were to be done!

When no footsteps followed the sounds, Harry relaxed a little and made himself more comfortable on his bed, still holding his nose with one hand, putting the other one behind his head. He ran his fingers through his hair which was feeling damp. Harry was sweating. Despite the darkness in his room, the sun crashing against the boards all day heated it up eventually. With no exchange of fresh air, this wasn't a comfortable place to stay in the summer.

 _Weird,_ Harry thought as he stroked through his hair again. It really had grown fast. In an annoyed rash at his hair _'deliberately sticking into every direction'_ Petunia had cut it only a month ago. It had looked like Harry was run over by a lawnmower. Yet it already fell onto his forehead again and nearly touched his ears.

Ironically, at this length his hair wasn't sticking into every direction anymore and, to be honest, Harry liked it this way very much. He had hated the way it looked like when it was violently shortened and had felt very naked without it.

Downstairs he heard some excited chattering going on. Probably Aunt Petunia managed to talk Uncle Vernon into a second rage momentarily.

 _Not helping,_ Harry thought bitterly. Usually he liked his aunt better than Uncle Vernon. Well. He didn't actually _like_ him. But. Didn't he? After all, he _was_ grateful that he was given a shelter, food and at least some kind of human interaction. They got mad all the time, but actually Harry got used to that. It didn't hurt as much as being ignored completely. No, Harry didn't hate them. He just didn't know how to make them less angry, how to make it right.

Harry rubbed his aching face with one hand and continued to immerge into his thoughts. Aunt Petunia was usually a lot nicer to him, at least compared to Uncle Vernon. At least as long as he didn't ask about his parents, talked back, or talked at all. As long as the glamorous family's image was not besmirched, she was in fact quite manageable. But when it came to this topic, she could turn vicious beyond recognition. Once that happened, with eyes reduced to mere slits and her lips tightly pursed together, she was a very scary woman to be around.

x x x

'Mrs. Dursley, it is really important that your son spent some more time outside. He is in a very bad physical shape.

 _And mental_ , Harry thought, but wisely kept his mouth shut. A skill he had acquired just recently.

'And he is very pale. Doesn't he play outside? He would REALLY profit from some exercise and you need to take better care of his nutrition. Doesn't he have any friends that take him outside? Your nephew looks more like he gets outside from time to time. He seems to have lost quite some weight though, hasn't he? Look at his clothes.'

The doctor turned towards his little patient who was suddenly very interested in his shoelaces to avoid some stare-down with his broiling aunt.

'Not liking your Aunt's cooking?' the doctor asked with a grin on his face. Harry didn't know how to answer. 'Seriously, you need to eat some more if you ever want to grow into these trousers!'

He smiled. The boy didn't. _What a day_. Giving him a little nudge, he insisted: "What about it, Harry?" The boy flinched.

'Yes, Dr. Connor' Harry answered obediently, not daring to look up, afraid to meet Petunia's gaze. For a moment, Harry thought it was nice of the doctor to ask. On the other hand, it was his job, wasn't it? He was supposed to ask, he got paid for this.

The doctor gave Petunia a reproachful look, not noticing the awkward frown that had formed on Harry's forehead. Examining her thin frame with his professional eye he continued.

'Well at least one of your boys seems to take after you, physically, that is. See that you take care of Dudley's shape as well, won't you? I fear that he will have joint issues later if he gains more weight at such an early age.'

Petunia was too incensed to speak. She gasped, clearly affronted. Realizing how this must look, she tried to force the gasp into a somewhat lame cough, smiling a fake apologetic smile at the doctor. How did this person even dare to assume that Harry took after her? Remind her that she was even related to that... _thing_.

'Well of course does Dudley have friends. Isn't that right my Duddykin? Many nice friends! I just don't want to get him sunburnt!' She made sure to pronounce every word. 'And he has a lot of exercise but with his cousin always running wild, well, who is supposed to keep up with him?' Petunia ploughed on.

 _Yeah sitting in front of the telly 8 hours a day surely is quite some exercise_ , Harry thought not without some jealousy. _He'd be half his weight if he did my chores!_

Dudley couldn't even bother feeling embarrassed. By now, he was too busy trying to pry some sweets out of a candy jar which was standing next to Dr. Connor's desk. He had already managed to grab several toffees, but now his porky little fist was stuck inside.

Harry was sitting on one of the chairs in front of Dr. Connor's desk and tried to keep his face straight and think of the least funny thing he could imagine to refrain from laughing out loud. This was becoming an increasingly difficult task when Dudley started whining, causing Petunia to blush even more fervently and hurrying over to rescue him. Yet this was no easy task as he refused to let go of the handful of toffees he had already acquired.

'Dudley.' Dr. Connor, feeling very proven in his just elaborated point, crouched down next to the 10-year-old boy and tried to put on his most convincing smile. 'Tell you something. We'll make a deal. Be a good boy just like your cousin was (at that Petunia shot Harry a very aggravated glare behind the doctor's back) and I will give you _one_ toffee as soon as you are done.'

Harry's heart sank at that glare he received and stopped dangling his feet immediately. He hadn't done anything wrong! He had been a good boy!

He had felt very tense being forced to come here, because going to the doctor's was generally a delicate affair with the Dursleys. They hadn't seen Dr. Connor before. Their last doctor had started to ask awkward questions when Harry didn't show up for several check-ups so Vernon decided that they would go somewhere else where no one would dare 'ask stupid questions which weren't to bother them anyway'.

Harry didn't like going, especially when this meant that he had to meet someone new, who hadn't already been told how bad he was. Who possibly _liked_ him and therefore made Petunia angry at him all the same.

Dr. Connor seemed to be a nice man. Harry reckoned that he was approximately going on 35, maybe 40 (with adults, this was always so hard to tell!) and he was quite tall. Also he had brown hair which was slightly longer than it probably should be for some professional, Harry reckoned. It was carelessly combed and tucked behind his ears to keep it from falling into his eyes (without success).

Also he didn't look like a usual doctor to him. The last one he had had was quite old, always wearing some kind of weird pullover underneath the white coat. Dr. Connor, on the other hand, seemed to favour casual wear. He wore a white polo shirt buttoned up only halfway and some sneakers to match his jeans. He was even wearing an earring on his left ear. Petunia immediately knew she hated him the instant she saw him.

Harry thought he looked quite interesting for a doctor. Usually there weren't so many interesting people around in Little Whinging.

He had come to this visit without frowning, received the vaccination which was due and had not complained about a single thing. The doctor had commented on his bravery and not realized that this made Dudley look bad, less brave, less heroic and sweet than Petunia had praised him to be. Harry was sure he would pay for that.

A sudden squeak made Harry's mind jump back to the present. Dr. Connor had figured that Dudley would not be convinced easily and had taken advantage of his very unfortunate position. While the boy still struggled to pry the sweets out of the jar, the doctor had reached for the vaccination and given him the required shot while he wasn't able to flee or stick is porky little arms elsewhere.

'Oh Duddyboy my honey all is good now!' Petunia fussed over him.

'You are so brave,' she praised ( _right,_ Harry thought) and managed to pull him into a hug as he had finally let go of the sweets, rather out of shock than willingly.

'Well. Are we done then?' She tried to look as good-naturedly and sweet as she could with her lips tightly pursed together. It completely ruined the effect.

When Dr. Connor nodded she took Dudley's hand to walk him outside and beckoned Harry to follow after them. Harry's heart felt like it had plummeted into his stomach when he noticed the curt nod Petunia had given him. Gazing down, he shuffled his little feet towards the door. Just as he reached it, he bumped into Dudley who had broken away from Petunia's hand and now stood glaring daggers at Dr. Connor.

'I wanna have my candy NOW! You forgot!' he squeaked, outstretching his hand.

Dr. Connor couldn't help but grin. Never had he seen such an impertinent kid and yet he felt sorry for him at the same time. _Doesn't come from nothing, such an attitude_ , he thought.

He handed Dudley the promised toffee which he snatched from his hand with a very reproachful look, due to the fact that it was in fact only _one_. When he made his way back to Petunia who was already pushing Harry out of the front door, Harry heard someone call him.

'Harry, come back here!'

 _What had he done now?_

Harry looked at his Aunt who looked equally confused, but for the sake of playing along the nice and good family game she gingerly said

'Harry, go to the Doctor and see what he wants... _sweetie_.'

'Surely you wouldn't have left without taking your treat as well!' Dr. Connor grinned broadly at him, handing him a toffee as well. As he reached out for the boy's shoulder to pat him on the back, he flinched again.

Harry blushed, muttered a shy 'thanks' and quickly shoved it into his pocket. Then he shuffled back to Petunia without looking up. Hopefully the doctor hadn't noticed. When no reaction followed, Harry decided that he hadn't.

'Oh,' Dr. Connor called after Petunia when she finally thought that this charade would be over, 'make sure your boy gets that exercise!'

And with that he quickly shut the door of his office before any protest could reach his squeal-deafened ears, grinning broadly when he leaned his back against the door hearing some muttering and ushering outside which eventually faded.

x x x

Petunia was fuming. She shoved Harry in the back of her car so firmly that he bumped the side of his head and started rubbing it vigorously.

'Ouch!'Harry cried out while Petunia stretched out her hand towards him.

Harry wasn't sure what was demanded of him.

'Give that sweet to me. NOW!' Her commanding voice left little room for discussion.

Harry reached into his pocket and surrendered the toffee to his aunt. How could he have thought that he was allowed to keep something he had been given, for only one second?

 _I should have eaten it right away_ , Harry thought bitterly. But back in the treatment room he hadn't dared, feeling Aunt Petunia's gaze firmly upon him.

His aunt slammed the backdoor in his face and ran over to Dudley who had seated himself on the co-driver's seat, handing over the sweet she had just hunted down from Harry.

'Here you go honey, now don't let this bother you. We won't see _that_ doctor again!'

With a grin, Dudley stuffed the sweet into his already cramped mouth, then turned around to face Harry and mumbled 'Wait till I tell Dad what you did!'

Harry sighed. What _had_ he done?

And so it had come. Once the three of them had reached #4 Privet Drive, Harry noticed that his uncle was already home. Their trip had taken longer than expected – thanks to Dudley's fussing – and now he lost no time in telling his father how awful Harry had been.

Not that this was necessary for Vernon Dursley to get mad at Harry. He already was angry. _A lot._ But it helped to direct his anger.

He had strained himself for a week to ignore the boy. He had tried not to give in to that urge to strangle him, to be able to present two children – alive – at the doctor's. By the time Harry had shuffled inside, Vernon was already towering over him. Fearfully Harry looked up to his uncle, but before he could even try to say something in his defence, (and what exactly should he have said anyway?) he was lifted up by the scruff of his neck and dragged into the living room where he was slammed onto the couch.

He tried to raise his arms to cover his head and protect it from the blows, but Vernon just grabbed his hand and pulled it away, vigorously slapping him with his other hand across the face.

'How _dare_ you make Dudley look bad in front of someone else? You will respect everybody in this house or you will be very sorry for it! DO NOT GIVE ME THAT LOOK, BOY!'

'I am sorry, Uncle Vernon! Please believe me!' Harry pleaded. 'I didn't mean to. I am sorry! Please stop… OUCH!' He held his cheek where his uncle had backhanded him.

'Are. YOU. Telling. Me. What. To. Do?' He slapped each word into Harry's face.

'No! Please, I am sorry! I really am! I will never do it again!' Tears started running down his face and Harry hated himself for always losing his composure so quickly. Uncle Vernon was right. He was _weak_. Why did he always have to start crying?

While Harry still tried to evade his uncle's blows unsuccessfully, Petunia lost no time excitedly telling her husband how that barefaced quack of a doctor had had the nerve telling her that her Duddykin needed more exercise.

Upcoming visits at the doctor's were always a straining experience for the Dursleys. It was well known that they had two kids (like it or not) and both were due for regular check-ups. They couldn't possibly leave Harry out of it. They had tried! But people started asking questions why they only brought one kid when the record said something different. Also, they could not keep changing doctors as this looked equally suspicious.

On the other hand, this meant that Vernon Dursley had to bite back his frustrations and anger for at least ten or so days to not leave any marks or bruises on the boy which were sure to be noticed by the professionals.

Vernon had pitied himself for that fact. Nevertheless, he had succeeded in making the boy feel as miserable as he could for the past week, even if he hadn't been able to give Harry the attention he so well deserved. It hadn't been easy, but he had made sure the boy hadn't had a single joyful moment during that last week.

'Don't worry, son.' Vernon smiled ferociously at Dudley who was sitting in his favourite telly chair stuffing more candy into his mouth as if it were popcorn. Dudley was observing the scene and felt clearly entertained by it.

'I will make sure he will not embarrass you like this again, son!'

And with these words he pulled Harry from the couch and shoved him towards the door.

'Your room! NOW!'

Harry fled from the scene, hearing his uncle stomping madly behind him. He could just imagine the purple-faced monster closing up on him. In his hurry, Harry missed the handle and bumped into his bedroom door that remained shut. _Dammit_. His nose started bleeding instantly and he could just in time cover it with his hands to keep the blood from ruining the carpet.

'Now look who managed to beat himself up!' Vernon sneered when he had finally caught up with him, breathing heavily.

'Don't you _dare_ make a mess in there!' He spat as he pushed Harry inside his room with his left hand and fumbled clumsily with a bunch of keys with his other hand.

He slammed the door shut and Harry heard the familiar clicking noises from the padlocks outside.

Several long minutes passed in which Harry didn't quite know what to do next. He still held his nose as the bleeding refused to cease when a loud _CRACK_ made him twirl around. In surprise, he looked at his window. Although he didn't dare walking closer towards it, he could observe the bizarre scene from his bed. Vernon had started to nail boards across his window, running out of steam at a bewildering rate.

'We will see if you will still be less pale than Dudley in a week!' He snickered, happy with his own genius idea, and nailed one more board across the window.

x x x

And there Harry lay, feeling very miserable to say the least. The darkness wasn't even the worst part. He missed the sound of birds and any sign of outside life as everything seemed to reach his senses only very muffled. He tried to think of something to distract him, tried to relax only a little bit.

'I can be good _,'_ Harry mumbled. He closed his eyes and his lip curled into a little smile. 'I can be good. Then, they'll like me.'

Violently, Harry snapped back to the present when something yanked the covers from his bed, causing him to fall to the floor.

 _Ouch._

His wrist made a snapping sound but he tried to ignore it.

'What the HELL do you think are you babbling on about, stupid boy?' Vernon snapped.

He was delighted to watch the effect he had caused as Harry crawled backwards on the floor, trying to get some space in between the two of them visibly, trying hard not to whimper in pain.

'Are you COMPLETELY out of your mind now?' Vernon continued. 'I always knew you were strange, but your weirdness is just increasing every single day. Wouldn't have thought that was possible. Now get your lazy ass out of here and fix us supper... _freak_.'

 _Ouch._

Harry bit his lip to prevent a nasty comment from slipping out. He knew better. It had taken quite some time and painful experiences, but he was getting there!

Guardedly, he watched Vernon as he squeezed past his uncle. This was a rather difficult task, regarding the size of his room and his uncle respectively. Just as he thought that he had successfully slipped past him, he felt a tight grip yanking him backwards. Struggling to keep his balance, he cast a quick look at his uncle, estimating the need to run for cover. Vernon just sneered at him.

'Go and get your filthy face washed before Petunia sees you like this. And do. not. dare. stain anything in the bathroom. Get going. You look like an idiot.'

With a mighty push, Harry was shoved towards the door and quickly scurried away. Once he was in the bathroom, he quickly closed the door and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His cheek had bruised visibly. The marks where his uncle's fingers had connected with his face drew a clear outline. Gingerly Harry ran his own hand along the lines.

He really _did_ look filthy.

His nose had continued to bleed a little once he had dozed off because of his stupid day-dreaming and dried blood was smeared across his mouth, cheeks and throat. Just now he realized how itchy that was starting to feel.

As he reached for the tap he noticed that there was blood on his hands, too. Quickly he washed everything off his hands and face until all looked clean. He grabbed some toilet paper and dried the sink and tap as well as his face and flushed it down the toilet. He didn't dare to use one of the towels Petunia had hung up for the family recently. When it came to such things, he wasn't qualified. He wasn't _family._

He grabbed another handful of toilet paper, dampened it and quickly made his way out of the bathroom to clean up any other stains he might have left on the floor without thinking. He was relieved to see that there weren't really any.

'Get down here NOW and fix supper, boy!' Vernon bellowed from downstairs. 'What the hell is taking you so long?'

Quickly shoving the damp toilet paper into his pocket, Harry ran downstairs and made his way to the kitchen.

 _What day is it?_ Harry thought with his mind racing. _What bloody day is it?_ He tried to think very hard but it was so easy to lose track of time when you weren't allowed to go outside, watch TV, read the newspaper.

Uncle Vernon favoured particular meals at predefined weekdays, although Harry wasn't sure if that was really a habit or simply some chance to get Harry into more trouble. Then an idea struck him.

Uncle Vernon had said 'Boy, wait until you come back from that bloody quack on Wednesday. Give me ONE LOOK and you'll be damn sorry for it! No doctor left you can run to and rant on about a single thing. As if we ever treated you badly, anyway. Just wait until Wednesday when this visit is over..."

He was right. It was Wednesday. Wednesday was fish day.

Harry quickly shuffled to the fridge to get out the salmon Petunia usually bought on Tuesday. He knew how Vernon liked it – fried, dripping with fat.

He opened the fridge and his heart sank deep into his stomach. There wasn't any fish.

'What exactly is the problem NOW, boy?' Vernon was hollering.

It was never a good sign when he actually called Harry _boy_.

'thereisntanyfish', Harry mumbled.

'WHAT?'

'There isn't any fish in the fridge, Uncle Vernon. Maybe I can fix you something el...'

'WHAT?' Vernon cut in. 'Why isn't there any fish?'

He heaved his massive body out of his chair and stomped towards his nephew.

'Honestly, I don't know Uncle Vernon!'

Harry shrunk back from the fridge as his uncle cornered him in the alcove of the kitchen were all the cooking was done. Harry no longer trusted his voice and just tried to look as neutral as possible, hoping that Uncle Vernon wouldn't notice his fear.

'Probably he already ate it because he wanted to have it all to himself!' Dudley squawked from his telly chair. 'Look at him. How guilty he looks! Yeah, like he'll ever admit it!'

'IS THIS TRUE BOY?' Vernon was outraged. _How could the boy dare!_

All blood seemed to have drained from Harry's face now. He paled when his uncle unbuckled his belt. There was no messing around with him when it came to food.

In vain, Harry tried to take cover in the corner he was being pushed into; arms raised high above his head, waiting for the buckle to make contact with his body. When the first blow didn't come, Harry suspiciously opened his eyes.

Aunt Petunia was standing in front of her husband, looking very miserable.

'Vernon! No! It was I.'

Had Harry dared to look his uncle in the face, he would have seen him dumbfounded, the situation too absurd to be really happening.

'Vernon, I simply forgot.' Petunia tried to appease her enraged husband. 'The boys. The doctor's visit. I simply forgot.'

With a jerk of her head, she motioned to Harry who still cowered in the corner miserably. 'He'll fix something else.'

Belt still in hand, Vernon pointed at Harry, his index finger hovering dangerously close in front of his eyes. For a moment, he didn't seem to know what to do. Then he regained his composure.

'This is entirely YOUR fault!' Lashing out with the belt towards the door, he motioned for Harry to get out.

'Get going! No food for you today. And do something about that BLOODY hair!'

x x x


	2. Something Isn't Right

Hey guys. Thank you for your lovely reviews on my last chapter. It makes me very happy you like the story and your kind comments make me feel much appreciated! I won't put up all the disclaimers up again each chapter, if you want to re-read, please see chapter 1.

So here the story continues... Enjoy.

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 2 – Something Isn't Right**

The sun was setting slowly in Little Whinging, colouring the streets with a warm shade of crimson. The leaves of the trees were still green. Probably they wouldn't wither for another month or two since it was in the middle of summer. School holidays had begun recently and kids were playing outside even past dinnertime. After all, they could sleep in and what was the point of holidays otherwise? The parents seemed to be enjoying themselves too, some watching their kids in the park, catching up on the newest neighbourhood gossip, others taking a walk with their spouse, chattering animatedly about the day's events.

Harry was lying on his bed again, eyes closed, his mind wandering aimlessly. Now and then he would hear a strained sound coming from somewhere outside. Or was it just his imagination?

Harry hated the holidays. He didn't particularly like going to school either, but at least there was a fixed amount of time on weekdays he wasn't forced to spend in his uncle's presence.

At school, everything was manageable. He was used to being ignored.

It hadn't always been like this, though. In his first year, lots of children had approached Harry happily and included him in their games. This wasn't to last long though.

Soon, Dudley, who was initially invited as well, was left out because he ruined every single game. If they played tag, Dudley would start cornering kids, leaving them scared and crying. 'Simon says' had soon been revised to 'Dudley says'. Nice toys were usually his (which he wouldn't share) or other kids' which he hunted down and then wouldn't share.

Dudley had been very surprised by the experience of being left out for once in his life. Yet it had not occurred to him that his own behaviour might be the cause of his misery. Therefore, he did the only thing he had learnt to do in such a situation – blame it on Harry.

Besides, _Harry_ seemed to be popular, driving the other kids away from him. Petunia had spent many evenings trying to comfort him.

'They are mean to me, Mummy!' Dudley had wailed. 'They call me names. They don't like me on purpose!'

'Maybe you could start sharing some of your toys. Only some!' She added hastily upon the very shocked glare she had received from her son.

'You know, lots of kids don't have as many nice toys as you have and they like to try new things. It is a good way to make friends.'

Before these words could sink in and unfold their meaning, Petunia's effort was squashed by her husband.

Up until now, Vernon had been sitting in his oversized lounge chair in front of the TV, grinding his teeth because of the on-going whining behind his back. Harry had been sitting on the floor and watched the scene in silence. When Vernon suddenly jumped up, he automatically backed away several feet, wondering if he had done something wrong.

Vernon turned around facing his wife and very agitated son whose eyes were puffy from crying. His face's colour was matching the little toy fire engine he was clasping.

'Boy, listen closely!' Vernon's hands were balled into fists, resting on either side of his belly.

 _'You_ don't need to share with others! They will only break your nice toys anyway and think you have gone all soft. Do you want them to think you are some kind of spineless wind-bag who hands out giveaways to the needy?'

'No, Daddy!' Dudley shook his head vigorously.

' _You_ don't need them to be your friends. _You_ are above that, son! They just need to respect you! You will find others to play with who are just as tough as you are! _Real_ friends!'

Finishing his sentence, he turned around once more and approached Harry with three quick strides, stopping just at arm's length away from him, fists still clenched tightly together. Pleased by the effect he had caused, he watched the little silhouette cowering at his feet, tearful eyes wide-opened, bottom lip quivering, and sneered contentedly. Then he faced his son again.

'See, Dudley. What do you need friends for when people just need to respect you? You won't have any problems, see?' He jerked his head towards his miserable nephew, trying to support his well-elaborated point.

Clearly Dudley was rather impressed by his father's demonstration than by his mother's reasoning. He started chewing on his lips. Then his puffy eyes glittered and his face lit up considerably. Without warning, he sent his little fire engine flying towards Harry who was still crouching at Vernon's feet and didn't dare to move. He yelped when the toy hit his left shoulder painfully.

'Oowie! Heeeey...!'

He wanted to protest, but Vernon leaned down until he was on eye-level. Annoyed, he glared at the boy.

'Something you want to say?'

 _Silence._

'You could have broken your nice toy, Dudley.' Harry finished somehow lamely.

Next day in school Dudley had lost no time employing those new tactics, bullying away until lunch time. Soon he discovered that none of the kids were making fun of him, nor was anyone calling him names anymore. He never had been nice to them, but now they had a reason to fear him! Now he could concentrate on his next problem – Harry's friends, or rather – Harry having any friends.

It didn't take a lot of threatening as everybody was already scared. Harry could guess what his cousin had told the kids, although he never learnt about the details. He just noticed how they started talking behind his back, looking the other way when he wanted to join them in their games.

Those were the experiences that had hurt deeply, and remembering them was just as bad.

A sickening feeling spread in Harry's stomach and tears had started to well up in his eyes. He opened them and started rubbing to ease the sting. He rested his hands on his face for a moment and sighed deeply. As long as he was living with Dudley, as long as people knew that he was related to him, he would never have any friends.

'Harry, we really can't play with you anymore,' the kids in school had told him timidly.

'Please don't get us into trouble, kay? We'll still be friends. We'll just pretend that we are not, right?'

And it had worked. They had pretended well and soon all was forgotten about Harry. Apart from new kids who joined the class and hadn't yet been told how _dangerous_ Harry was to be around, there weren't enough suicidal kids left he could play with.

Harry didn't want to get others into trouble, so finally he stopped talking to most of the kids. The teachers in school did talk to him, but it didn't help much, either. Harry had to make sure that he wasn't outscoring Dudley on any task they were given, a very tough challenge in itself. He had to make up so many mistakes and give stupid answers that by the end of his second year, all of his teachers pitifully regarded him as a hopeless case state funding was wasted on. They felt sorry for the little boy that usually tried very hard to no avail.

x x x

Harry reached for the toilet paper he had stuffed into his pocket earlier the day. It had been damp and was making a fluff now. He managed to extract a handful of atomized pieces but soon figured that he would never retrieve all of it at this rate. Petunia would be outraged if she found this in the laundry, possibly ruining other clothes as well.

Pushing himself off his covers, Harry heard the snapping sound in his wrist again.

 _OUCH._

He switched on the lights and tried to examine his hand. It was swollen and had adapted a weird colour. But maybe that was just the lack of natural light in his room. It was impossible to see anything with his window barricaded. A singular light bulb was suspended from the ceiling. It looked like it couldn't compete with a decrepit firefly.

Actually, Harry was surprised that it hadn't given up on him yet. He rarely used it, just to be on the safe side. It had been there as long as he could remember. There wasn't much he could do about it anyway. With a shrug of his shoulders, he switched it on and got going on the more pressing issue.

He stood on his left trouser leg and pulled his jeans down with his intact arm, pulling the leg with his other foot. There was no need to unbutton or unzip as it was hanging so loosely, eventually he'd drop them in public. Yet he'd never dare ask Uncle Vernon for a belt! Ironic man he was, he'd probably misunderstand the request.

He finally managed to step out of his trousers and turned the pocket in question inside out, starting to pick at the remainders of the toilet paper, lost in thought. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong this time.

Harry glanced towards his window and seeing that the sunset-weakened rays of light weren't making it through to him anymore, decided that it must be time to sleep soon.

Vernon hadn't yet locked him up inside his room. He was sure to hear the padlocks once Uncle Vernon eventually came to shut him in. Still he didn't need to push his luck and check. Avoidance was generally good tactics around this place.

He threw the toilet paper ball into his waste bin, then folded his trousers neatly and laid them across his chair. He turned off the gloomy light bulb and headed for his bed, pulled back the cover and carefully crawled inside.

Rolling onto his side, he hugged his pillow closer to his body and closed his eyes only to immediately open them again. His heartbeat had quickened considerably.

Harry rolled onto his other side, still clutching his pillow.

He was such a baby. Not being able to sleep. _How childish._

Harry didn't know how it had come. At some point, it had started and henceforth occurred on a regular basis. He just couldn't get off to sleep without rolling back and forth endlessly. Somehow dark thoughts kept coming once he closed his eyes, wrapped into complete darkness and silence. Usually there had been some light from the street lamp in front of his window. But now that his room was fortified, there wasn't a single spot of brightness. His heart sank at the thought.

Tears started to well up in Harry's eyes again. He hugged closer to his pillow, burying his head into it. He wanted to cry some long unshed tears, but was too stricken with emotions.

x x x

Harry rolled onto his other side, maybe the thirtieth or fortieth time. He had stopped counting when he had gotten all mixed up with it. Then he realized that his hand didn't hurt anymore. Neither did his head.

 _That was nice for a change_.

Already he wasn't feeling tired anymore. He pushed himself up and sat back against his bed, trying to take in his surroundings. His room didn't seem to be as dark anymore, either. Little spots of light were dancing in front of his window. Harry caught glimpses of them when they flew in between the slits of the boards. Were those fireflies? He strained himself to see them clearer, but just as he wanted to get out of his bed, he heard a shuffling noise outside his door. Then, metallic sounds followed.

' _Click. Click. Click.'_

Was Uncle Vernon finally shutting him in? Wasn't it too late for that?

Or... _he wasn't!_

Was he unlocking them? In the middle of the night? To come into his room? When he was supposed to be sleeping?

Harry hugged his knees against his chest, firmly clutching his arms around his legs.

He didn't dare breathe.

' _Click.'_ That was only one to go.

' _Click.'_

Near rigid with fear, Harry pulled his bedcover over his knees and half across his face, just leaving the nose and eyes uncovered, staring at the door. Someone was sneaking around out there. Slowly the knob of his door turned. It would open any second.

Yanking himself out of his shock, Harry lay down flat on his back again, pulling the cover right over his head. Maybe he could just pretend to be sleeping. His breathing was alarmingly loud. He clapped one hand over his mouth, but still could hear his heavy accelerated breathing.

' _Clack.'_ His door had been shut again.

He didn't dare move.

 _Was he alone again?_

He felt someone's presence linger around menacingly.

' _Creak.'_

Something heavy was moving across the floor boards of his room!

With both hands Harry clutched to his cover, violently shaking. He had to make sure and check. Slowly he lowered the cover, inch by inch, holding his breath. His knuckles were white, forcefully holding on to his cover _._

 _Just a few more inches._

Time seemed to stand still.

He finally screwed up his courage and dropped the bedspread, staring into two ugly eyes hovering above him! Someone was laughing disgustingly in the silence.

'NOOOOOOOO! LEAVE ME ALONE!'

Harry started to scream but it felt like the words had never formed on his lips. Two fat hands were choking him. He gasped for air, uncontrollably slapping his hands above his head, trying to free himself from that iron grip, flailing limbs everywhere.

'NOOOOOOOO! STOOOOOP!'

He violently trashed around, getting tangled up in his way-too-big shirt. It felt like he was being tied down by it and it got worse the more he struggled.

'LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME BE! GO AWAY!' he screeched in desperation.

Eyes wide-opened, he stared directly into the two ugly bulging eyes, seeing nothing else, feeling the beefy fingers around his throat.

'You are a _freak_ ,' a horribly icy voiced breathed.

'And this is why you have to die.'

Harry tried to jerk his head away, hitting it against his bedpost, still screaming. Then he opened his eyes.

x x x

Violent muttering penetrated Harry's door as he heard the familiar clicking outside. He made out Aunt Petunia's voice. She was trying to calm her husband who seemed too agitated to unlock the door. Harry's heart sank.

 _Another dream. Again._

A couple of moments passed in which Harry tried to calm his breathing and lie down again, but to no avail. His heart was hammering against his chest, his shirt was completely soaked with sweat, and his temple was hammering where his head had connected with the bedpost. His hair was clutching to his forehead in damp streaks. He ran his fingers through it so he'd be able to see anything. Harry noticed that his hand was shaking badly.

Finally the door burst open with a bang, sending splinters from the doorframe everywhere. It would have been obvious that Harry feigned sleep if he still remained silent after this entrance.

'WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK ARE YOU SCREAMING ABOUT, BOY?'

Vernon was outraged. He switched on the light but it only gave a weak puff and everything remained dark inside Harry's room. The only lights now came from the hallway outside and the master's bedroom at the end of the floor.

 _That's it_ , Vernon thought.

'I WILL NOT PUT UP WITH THIS ANYMORE!' He thundered.

Having said this, he grabbed Harry by his hair and dragged him out of his bed. With full force, he threw him towards the severely abused door which hung loosely in its hinges. He snatched the trousers lying on the chair and flung them at Harry who was grabbing the doorframe for dear life.

'Get. Out. NOW!'

Wide-eyed Harry held on to his trousers. He backed away from his uncle and aunt. Petunia had been standing in the hallway helplessly, now approaching her husband.

Harry stopped just in time to avoid falling down the stairs backwards and observed the bizarre scene. He felt paralysed. Everything seemed to be so unreal. This couldn't be happening!

'Vernon! You cannot throw him out!' Petunia tried to appease her husband in a hushed voice. Then she added, 'what will the neighbours think?'

'I do not bloody CARE!' Vernon's voice was hoarse as he screamed on top of his lungs. 'It's in the middle of the night, for crying out loud! No one will see! Didn't you hear him scream like an idiot? I have had enough of this!'

Harry struggled to get into his trousers. The legs just kept getting tangled up and his body felt like it might collapse anytime soon. As he had finally managed to pull his trousers up, Vernon approached him and captured him by the scruff of his neck.

He tried to pull Harry towards him so forcefully, the fabric of his shirt gave in to the sheer brutality with a tearing noise. Harry threw his hands at his throat. The collar of his shirt had been expanded so much that it was hanging loosely over his right shoulder now. Vernon decided to give his assault another chance of success, this time grabbing Harry's bare right upper arm, forcing him down the stairs.

Harry tried to get hold of the handrail, but couldn't reach it. He struggled to keep his balance and the only thing which kept him from falling over and breaking his neck was the iron grip on his arm.

 _It felt filthy_.

Harry was disgusted by the touch on his bare skin. The belt was one thing. But those beefy, filthy, disgusting fleshy fingers were something completely different.

Once they reached the front door, Vernon yanked it open and, with a ferocious push, sent the boy flying a couple of feet. His knees got cut by the gravel in the driveway.

'Don't you dare to come back before the morning!' Vernon thundered. 'Go scream somewhere else, idiot!'

With that he ushered Petunia back inside who had paled visibly at her husband's outburst. She peeked around but the neighbour's curtains remained tightly drawn. Nobody seemed to have noticed. With a last look at Harry and then at her husband, she decided that she didn't dare to intervene and closed the door slowly, giving Harry one last glance, possibly a little longer than he was used to.

Scrambling to his feet, Harry started running. He didn't have his shoes or socks but the asphalt felt still warm. Tears of confusion and fear were streaming down his cheeks.

 _Where was he supposed to go?_

Harry could only think of one place where he had felt happy, _safe_. Taking a few turns he started his way towards a little playground he had discovered a few months ago. It was only small and Dudley had never been to it. Harry had snuck away a couple of times and played there when Uncle Vernon hadn't been home from work yet, when Dudley was out playing somewhere else and when Aunt Petunia wasn't paying close attention to him, probably busy with keeping a close record of what was happening in the neighbourhood.

Once a few kids had been there, a girl and a boy, the girl obviously younger, maybe 3 or 4 years old, the boy rather older than Harry. But apart from those kids, the playground seemed mainly deserted. Maybe it was too tiny to be very popular around this neighbourhood.

One time, Harry had received an awful hiding from Uncle Vernon as he got lost in his game and returned home late. His uncle had asked where he had been, but surely he hadn't given away his secret. If it wasn't for this, he would have been in trouble for something else anyway. He truly treasured this place. It gave him so much solace. And there was no chance he'd surrender that. Uncle Vernon seemed contented with Harry's excuse that he got lost, confirming his belief that the boy was stupid beyond recognition. Also it meant that he got to punish the boy for something that wasn't about to change.

Maybe fifteen minutes or so had passed which felt like hours. Harry was starting to worry that he had missed the right junction. After all, he had never been here in the middle of the night. Just when he was about to give up and turn around, he saw the metal of a swing reflect the dim light of the crescent moon. It looked exactly the way he remembered it to be, the way he _needed_ it to be. Beautiful and serene.

With a sigh of relief, he walked towards the swing and sat down on it. Harry needed a moment to collect his breath. His hands clutched the iron chains by which it was suspended from and dangled his feet in the sand below, letting it rinse through his toes.

Then his emotions caught up with his condition. A heart-wrenching sob escaped his lips. Startled by the loudness of it he jerked, clapping a hand to his mouth. Pushing off the ground with his feet he gave the swing a light twist and gazed around carefully, trying to take in his surroundings. Obviously, he was alone.

Tears were freely running down Harry's cheeks and falling onto his sweaty shirt. Although it was still warm outside, he started shivering. Hugging his arms fiercely to his chest, he started swinging back and forth slowly, annoyed that he was such a crybaby.

 _What was he supposed to do? Why had he come to this place in the middle of the night?_

Harry berated himself as the darkness seemed to close up on him. Probably he should have just waited at the front door and after a couple of minutes Aunt Petunia would have convinced his uncle to let him back inside before, by any chance, neighbours started noticing. But he had been stupid and taken off…

Another heart-wrenching sob escaped Harry's mouth and another flow of tears released some emotions which he couldn't suppress much longer. He gazed at the stars, feeling numb.

After a couple of minutes that felt like hours, Harry didn't have any tears left to cry. His eyes were stinging, but rubbing them only made it worse. He wasn't shivering anymore, quite contrary. His forehead felt very hot and he had started to sweat again.

As he was trying to regain some common sense, rocking back and forth to calm himself, gently stroking his cheeks with the knuckles of his hands, some more sobs escaped from the depths of his broken heart.

He snapped back to the present, when a stifled gasp of surprise reached his ears. Drawing in a sharp breath, he scanned his surroundings, stopping dead when his gaze fell on someone standing next to the trees at the junction of the main road and the pathway leading towards this playground. Harry's muscles tensed.

He could only make out the silhouette. It seemed to be a tall person. It just stood there, one hand pocketed, the other one held in front of his mouth as if caught in surprise, watching him carefully. Casting a quick look around, Harry decided to run for it. With a pounding heart, he jumped off the swing and took the path which led away from the playground.

After a few moments, he jerked around to see if he was being followed, stumbling terribly as his way-too-large trousers threatened to drop. The spectator seemed to have walked towards the now abandoned swing and stretched its hand out, as if trying to get a grasp of what he had just observed.

Without looking back anymore, he ran as fast as his sore feet would allow him to.

x x x

 _What the hell had just happened?_

Walking closer towards the swings, the tall figure reached for the iron chains to stop the rapid movement as they were dangling wildly.

They felt still warm where the boy's hands had gripped them tightly, just moments before. Could he dare trust his eyes? He felt the warmth of the chains once more as if to reinforce the thought that a child actually had held on to them just seconds ago. He hadn't imagined. He wasn't becoming insane.

Running his fingers through his entangled hair he stopped at his ear, scratching the little fang which was pierced into it. With a light shake of his head he hurried towards the other end of the playground where the kid had disappeared. He ran down the road in either direction but didn't get a second glimpse of the kid. It had suddenly sprung up and then just disappeared into the darkness.

 _What was this kid doing here in the middle of the night?_ He thought, angry at his slow reaction. But what was he supposed to do? Hunt down the kid?

It was an hour past midnight.

x x x

Tom had had a rough day at work. Actually it had been a rough month since the baby was there. And he had been tired. Although his working times were now a lot more convenient than they had been when he was still assigned to the emergency room of the local hospital, he hadn't really gotten used to it yet. He liked his work very much. The demanding nature of the job usually caused him to excel in it, getting lots of quality work done. But the lack of sleep due to his messed-up biorhythm exacted its toll eventually.

It hadn't been easy to surrender his beloved position to another colleague and start working at the GP's for a while, but his wife hadn't settled for any discussions. Being home with the baby, she needed more of his support than he could offer while doing hospital hours. So he had agreed to slow down for a while, after all, it was family first.

Now he worked regular office hours, except if he was on the alert. In the mornings he'd be tired and make his way through the day with truckloads of coffee. In the evenings he would start to feel more alive and full of energy. While his wife made sure he got his sleep, feeding the baby at night, she relied on him to take care of their other two kids. Thankfully, they could rely on their neighbours to step in now and then when work got over his head.

This morning, he had dropped his son and daughter off at the Gregory's with a guilty pang in his stomach. It didn't help that his 4-year-old daughter had hugged herself to his neck vigorously and refused to let go. Just when he had promised her a dozen times that he wouldn't forget her and surely pick her up by the end of the day, he had managed to prise open her firm grip and put her down.

The evenings usually followed the same routine now that he did regular hours. After taking the baby from his tired wife and spending some time outside with the kids, they would have supper and see Marie off to bed afterwards. Sam, his older one, would then get to choose what he wanted to do with his Dad. Tom had to admit that, after all, regular hours did have their benefits.

But when he had finally put his 12-year-old to bed, he enjoyed to collapse on the couch, the baby on his stomach, glancing at his beautiful wife who sat opposite him in a comfortable stuffed chair. They would talk about their day, make plans for the weekend, and enjoy some quiet time. By 10 p.m. the baby had fallen asleep. Warm air was coming in through the open window. It was a wonderful summer night.

'I will head off to bed, honey' Dana had said. 'Who knows how long she will be sleeping.' With an affectionate look, she regarded her baby, then her husband. 'Make sure you don't stay up too long. You look tired.'

Tom nodded, kissing his wife and baby as they passed him and returned to his comfortable position on the couch. Turning on the stereo with some quiet music, he recapitulated his day's events. This had been a rough day and, unlike usual, he hadn't been able to leave his work behind once he'd passed his front door.

'There was something with that boy's behaviour that made me feel awkward', he had said to his wife when she had commented on his thoughtfulness before.

'What do you mean, awkward?

'I don't know. It is just a feeling.' He shrugged his shoulders.

Seeing the frown on his wife's face, he added 'maybe I am just tired.' Poking the baby gently, a big grin spread across his face. 'I wonder why.'

He didn't know why, but he felt very uneasy and only managed to relax slowly now that he was lying on his comfortable couch. Slowly, he drifted off to sleep.

It felt like he hadn't slept at all when he was woken by the familiar sound of a child crying. Maybe Sam had had a bad dream, or Marie couldn't find her cuddly bear. Half-way across the room heading for the staircase, he heard the heart-wrenching sound again. It didn't come from upstairs though. It came from… outside?

Walking back to the living room, Tom strained his ears to hear another sound and thought that he heard the metal chains of a swing. It was right across the street, his kids' favourite playground.

Determined to make sure, he slipped into his sneakers, stepped out of his front door and moved across the street, slowly, as if not to scare away anyone he might find there at such a late hour of night.

Coming to a halt a bit away from the playground, he looked for the source of the sobbing and discovered the little creature on the swing, crying desperately. A gasp escaped his mouth before he could clap his hand to it. Obviously he had given his silent observer's position away, for the little kid had noticed him. It stared at him for a second, as if seizing him up, then it ran for it.

Tom had wanted to shout, tell him that everything was alright and that there was no need to be afraid, but was too dumbfounded by the situation to speak at all.

The kid turned around and stumbled in its way too large trousers which dropped half-way before they were yanked up again. This time there was no looking back.

 _Yes._ He knew this kid.

x x x


	3. Family Matters

My dear readers, thank you for your wonderful reviews and I am glad that you are enjoying the story so far. So now let's see what happens next in Little Whinging with the kid that decided to go on a night time stroll after being kicked out by his nasty nasty uncle...

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 3 – Family Matters**

Giving himself a push, Tom jerked out of his stupor and started running after the small boy.

'Wait!' he shouted. 'I am not going to hurt you,' he added, but the boy didn't react. Tom only needed seconds to leave the playground, but the boy had disappeared as suddenly as he had been there in the first place.

At the intersection he stopped, looking at either side. Then, with a sigh, Tom started running again.

 _What was this kid thinking?_ Tom thought. _In the middle of the night..._

A couple of minutes later, he figured that he must have taken a wrong turn. He doubted that the boy could run quicker than he did, especially with those trousers. Slightly panting, Tom reached into his pocket for his cell to call the police but realised that is was still resting on the kitchen counter where he had left it upon returning home from work.

Frustrated, Tom decided to walk back home, his mind engaged in serious thinking. Adrenaline was still rushing through his body. A few minutes later, he stepped over the threshold of his house and steered towards the nearest phone which sat on a small table next to the wardrobe. Not wanting to wake up his family, he took the phone off its station and walked towards the living room, quietly shutting the door after him.

He dialled the first two digits, then laid it back to the table hesitantly, not sure what was holding him back. Somehow the feeling nagged him that simply calling the police on this matter would only make things worse for the boy. Surely, they would be required to check on the boy. But Tom had seen such stories before, and if there wasn't a lot of evidence to back up the story, there was usually very little police were willing to do.

With a sigh, Tom sat down on the stuffed chair his wife had occupied earlier and closed his eyes, combing through his hair with both hands. So what _did_ he know?

The signs had been faint. He had _felt_ them, but not recognized. When a child was straight out miserable or hurt, there were clear signs to be seen. He would immediately figure out the problem and treat it so the symptoms could cease.

But in this case it had been the other way around. His unconsciousness had been bombarded with subtle signals but he hadn't seen the origin, to be honest, he hadn't even seen the problem. He had just felt uneasy.

Those signals had been covered-up by the outward appearance of the happy family life. At first sight, everything had seemed normal. Two kids who were in for their due vaccinations. Usually there would be lots of fussing, coaxing and parents on their last legs, desperate to get back home. But there had been more to this family that he had seen for the first time today.

The younger boy seemed very aware of his surroundings. The flinching. The looks exchanged between the three of them.

One moment, the little boy had been sitting on his chair dangling his feet. Seconds later, his aunt had cast him an ominous glance causing him to instantly stop moving whatsoever and look very miserable. It was like a button had been pushed.

Obviously the woman thought that Tom hadn't noticed her gesture, for she resumed with her put-on smile and started talking to him again.

 _Why didn't I say something while they were still there?_ Tom mused.

But what _did_ you say in such a situation?

'Sorry M'am, but would you possibly mind telling me if you or a close-standing relative, possibly your husband, tends to beat the crap out of this scared-as-hell kid? What? No, of course not, I understand that you must keep your facade now and will deal with your nephew later... never mind my asking though...'

Tom rested his hands on his closed eyes for a moment, sighing deeply. Of course there was a routine to be followed when he suspected child abuse. Yet there had been no physical signs, no bruises. Confronting parents (or uncle and aunt in this case) was always a delicate affair and not to be done lightly, at least not without any proof to back up his accusations.

Rubbing his temples gently, he tried to recapitulate the boy's visit at his surgery.

x x x

'Don't worry Mrs. Dursley, we will be done in no time and then you can go back home!' he had reassured Petunia upon her frowned explanation that she would like to be back home in time before her husband returned from work.

Not to lose any time, he had prepared the vaccinations and had picked the boy who looked more apprehensive and scared than the other one who was busying himself with the sweets he kept in his office.

 _Might as well get it over with quickly_ , Tom had told himself.

'It will be only a tiny prick in your arm. If you look the other way it won't be as bad, okay Harry?'

The boy had nodded and closed his eyes, not moving. As Tom had reached for his arm to pull up the sleeve of his shirt, the kid had jerked away violently, as if caught by surprise.

'Oh, don't worry,' he had calmed the boy who had opened his eyes again and blushed violently.

'I should have told you my hands are really cold, sorry for that!' he exclaimed amiably.

It was a feeble attempt to loosen up the tense situation he had created. He pulled the boy's sleeve up as much as he could to get a good look of his arm, gave Harry the shot and pulled his sleeve back down again, squeezing the arm of the boy, trying to comfort him a little.

'See?' He smiled encouragingly. 'Already done. You have been very brave to go first.'

For a second he had thought that there was a smile on the boy's lips when he had squeezed his arm lightly. Harry had even closed his eyes for a very brief moment. It had been a normal gesture to Tom. He did it all the time with his kids, they needed it. Yet, his kids never reacted to it as if it were something special.

Looking at the boy again, Tom thought he might as well just have imagined it though, for the sullen look was already back in place.

x x x

Tom sighed.

Fine, the kid had been jerking and flinching. This could have been caused by the situation, maybe he had really just surprised him. Also he hadn't seen any bruises or marks on the boy, although he had tried to subtly check. This didn't exactly hint towards physical abuse.

But on the other hand, there was all the looking and glancing. His completely improper clothing. It just gave him this weird feeling in his stomach.

This wasn't exactly a lot he knew about this little boy. The uncertainty had been nagging him. But looking at the facts he had gathered, there wasn't really anything he knew for sure, except that he felt a lot of sympathy for that little kid and that he could usually rely on his judgment when it came to people.

Maybe he was making a mountain out of a molehill.

But then he had seen him.

On the playground.

In the middle of the night.

Without shoes.

Crying.

Had he run away from home? Or was he just on a little night time stroll during the holidays? But he wasn't even a teenager, yet. Neither had he been with any friends.

So it would be sensible to call the police, Tom repeated back to himself. If the boy really ran away from home, it was important to get him back and check that everything was fine. But would returning him home really turn out to make everything _fine?_

Thinking of the kid's aunt, he involuntarily shuddered. Probably, upon stepping up her front door to return the stray kid, the policemen would be heartily thanked and then the boy would be in trouble later. Or they would serve some other story to fend off any officials and be warned that somebody suspected something to be _off_ with their family. That would only make it more difficult to approach them another time.

Tom had seen this before. The last time he had been suspicious about a little girl getting abused by a relative, he had quickly involved the officials only to figure out later that they hadn't been able to confirm his accusations. He had been sure that he was right. The family had changed doctors, leaving Tom feeling helpless and angry. He had never seen the girl again.

 _Or_ , Tom pondered, _the boy has already returned to his home and calling now would just give away that he was strolling around in the first place and get him into trouble._

And what about the uncle?

The woman had been weird, but certainly she had made an effort to fake a nice family life. To make everything appear so _out of question._

Her son was clearly having none of that, seizing every opportunity which looked like there could be something in for him. Yet that boy was only ten and surely had to have some role model.

When another wave of exhaustion washed over Tom, he stretched his muscles and tried to consider which options he might have left to get rid of the nagging feeling he'd had since he had put his phone down again. His head told him to call the cops. His stomach clearly opposed. Deciding that it was always good to compromise, both met halfway. His heart told him to take matters into his own hands. But this time he wanted to make sure to collect enough solid evidence beforehand and not screw up again.

Not being able to find some rest and determined to work out a way to help, he rose again and silently walked upstairs to keep himself from falling asleep. On the left side were the bathroom and the master's bedroom where his wife and baby would be sleeping, on the right side were his son's bedroom with colourful letters spelling his name and another empty room which usually served as a guest's bedroom when friends visited.

At the end of the floor was his daughter's bedroom. Her door exhibited the same colourful spelling as Sam's. As usual, the door wasn't closed so the floor light could light up her room a little. Once his breathing had calmed down, Tom moved towards his daughter's room and opened the door a little further to be able to squeeze into her room.

He knelt down next to her bed and gazed at the little girl sleeping, serenely sucking her thumb. Sitting down cross-legged he leaned against the bed, taking a look around the room. He loved its decoration. Somehow the mere presence of his daughter, hearing her peaceful breathing, studying the pictures and paintings in her room, helped him relax.

The room was coloured in a shade of forest green. Sam had suggested painting some tree trunks onto the green walls, making it look like the room was surrounded by impenetrable forest. Supported by his mother's creative talent, the room soon had adapted a serene ambience.

Over the months, little forest animals and plants had been added. Sam's favourite piece was the black panther guarding his little sister's bed. It wasn't particularly a forest animal, (well rainforest possibly) but Sam loved it, and so did Marie.

Apart from the paintings which were part of the walls, some self-made pictures had been added randomly. Tom let his mind wander for several minutes before the little runaway boy reappeared in front of his inner eye.

Although the boy had been a first time patient, there had to be a patient record or even an Electronic Health Record somewhere. He could do some research and figure out a little more details about this boy and his family.

 _Maybe I'll just make another appointment for him,_ he pondered. _Say I'll need to check the antibodies in his blood to see if the vaccination was having an effect._

Although, the other boy would have to come, too, if he chose this approach. Everything else would look suspicious. No, that was stupid. In the worst case they would think he had experimented with unverified vaccine.

 _Great, I'll lose my job doing that,_ Tom thought. He had to figure out something else.

Weariness was finally catching up with the distressed man as he had rubbed his eyes more and more often during the last minutes. All this reasoning was tiring him. It felt like he was just circling the problem here.

A feeling of frustration started to replace the nagging discomfort he had felt before. Casting his watch a quick glance he saw that there would only be a couple of hours left until he would have to leave for work again.

With a sigh he got up, reached down into his daughter's bed to gently stroke her cheek and then left the room. Not wanting to wake his son (who had his bedroom door closed) he passed his room and walked down the stairs again.

Walking back to his couch, he reached for a blanket and pillow and set his alarm to the proper time. He stretched out on his back, fingers interlaced behind his head. Then, an idea sprang to his mind. He'd have to discuss it with his wife, but surely it wasn't the worst of all options.

Rolling on to his side, he fell asleep immediately.

x x x

Harry was tired. Yet, he hadn't been able to fall asleep in the shed where he had taken refuge for the night. Everything had just been too exciting.

Terribly shaken by the night's events, he had run back home without stopping once.

Now and then he had taken a quick turn, when he saw some headlights in the distance coming his way. He had wanted to avoid bumping into another person that night, whatever the cost would be. Not to think how Uncle Vernon would react if a police car would drive by, notice him and knock at the front door of #4 Privet Drive. How would they react? What could he say to his defence?

Once, he even jumped into a roadside ditch when a speeding car had suddenly come out of nowhere, only one junction away from him. Luckily, there hadn't been any water in the ditch.

It took Harry some time to gather his courage and start running again once he had crawled back out of the ditch.

 _I will never run away again,_ he thought, scared as hell.

He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to concentrate very hard, collecting every single piece of imagination he had left to lessen the fear which felt like it started to burn him from the inside. He strained himself to think of a very happy moment.

Eyes still closed, Harry wrapped his arms around his body, stroking his shoulders softly.

 _Then he remembered._

He gave his right arm a little squeeze and a rush of warmth shot through is body. It had felt so good. It hat felt so affectionate. So _caring_.

He tried to relive yesterday's happy moment again and again, but somehow it wasn't working properly. Although the gesture stayed the same, he couldn't feel the warmth gently flowing through his body anymore.

His forehead started to ache and involuntarily he squeezed his eyes together, holding his head tightly with his hands. Unspoken words started to form on his lips.

Pictures of the past day and night were flashing through his mind again.

The urge to cry out to someone – _anyone_ – was overwhelming. Yet he knew there wouldn't be anyone.

Tears had started running down his face again. They left little lines on his dust-covered cheeks. Harry stroked the tears away, only causing his face to look even dirtier now.

Camouflaged like this, it was probably impossible to see the little boy in the darkness unless someone tried very hard and knew what he was looking for. Finally, Harry had arrived back at number four, Privet Drive, and quickly ran towards the house.

He didn't dare try the front door. Probably it was locked anyway, but Uncle Vernon had told him not to come back before morning. He really didn't want to be in any more trouble than he already was.

Scared and shivering, he had circled the house and felt immensely thankful to find the shed unlocked. The hinges creaked when he squeezed inside, but nobody seemed to feel disturbed by the nocturnal noise. In a corner were some dusty blankets.

With a sigh, Harry let his tired and sore body sink on to the pile and closed his eyes for a moment, cradling his arms to his chest, rocking slightly forth and back. He stroked his bruised hand gently. It had hurt since he had been pushed off his bed so violently. Again, he wasn't able to make out the colour of it, it just looked odd. Surely he wasn't able to write with it while it felt like this.

 _At least there is no school tomorrow,_ Harry thought. _No stupid questions._

x x x

Going to school while living with the Dursleys was difficult for three reasons. Firstly because of Dudley, who was responsible that Harry didn't have any friends. Secondly, because of Aunt Petunia, who came up with quite creative excuses on each parent's day why Harry was even dumber than Dudley (although she worded it differently of course!). Every teacher thought he was outright stupid. And thirdly, because of Uncle Vernon, who was responsible for Harry having missed countless days in school.

Somehow Aunt Petunia was never running out of excuses why the poor boy was 'yet ill again and probably not back to health for another week' each time.

The teachers did their fair share looking the other way. They seemed contented with the excuses Aunt Petunia wrote each time. Nobody cared to notice that Harry had suffered from chicken pox already three times during the last year.

It was still more than a month to go before he would have to worry about school again.

Squirming, Harry tried different positions on the hard wooden floor and finally settled for one he considered to be least painful, lying on his side, knees drawn to his chest, resting his head on one of the blankets, his body wrapped into the other ones.

Being able to rest the first time during that difficult night, Harry felt his body relax and some of the pain return. His knees felt sore where he had hit the street.

 _My trousers are torn,_ Harry thought and swallowed hard. Even if this was Uncle Vernon's fault, he wouldn't put up with it.

A lump had formed in his throat making him feel very miserable. Everything he owned (which wasn't a lot anyway) somehow got lost, taken away, or destroyed _._

Surely, his things weren't nice and way too big anyway, but yet they had been his and now they were stained and ripped beyond repair.

Still lying, he started picking at his knees, trying to get some of the grit out of his skin. It hurt and the fact that it was really dark and Harry could only feel where his knees had been scraped up wasn't helping at all. He decided to leave it for the time being.

In the shack it was considerably warmer than outside. Also the blankets were – though dusty – quite comfortable and Harry decided that this was probably just as comfortable as he would get. Feeling the warmth emanating from them, he decided to take off his torn shirt which was cooling him down quite a bit because of its clamminess. Already Harry felt better and snuggled into the warm blankets, closing his eyes once more.

This day had been terrible. It had just turned out so _wrong._ Yet, he was glad to rest for once, too tired to bother anymore, and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

x x x

The serene moment was suddenly interrupted when something edgy poked Harry in the ribs. Jerking awake at once, he saw his cousin holding a stick in his outstretched hand.

'DAD!' he shoutet.

'Why is Harry naked and sleeping in our shack?' After a moment of careful thinking, he added 'does that mean that I can have his room now?'

With that he turned around, still holding his stick, and ran away.

Closing his eyes once more, Harry tried to capture the dreamless night he had had.

Pulling the blankets around his body again, he wasn't sure if he should get up or wait what would happen next. He decided to settle for his second option.

 _No matter what happens, don't screw it up! he_ told himself vigorously.

Opening his eyes again, he noticed that the sun was shining brightly. It had to be almost noon for Dudley was already awake during his summer holidays.

Had he really slept that long? On second thought he realised that nobody seemed to have missed him.

Moments later, Vernon appeared in the backyard, sticking his purple head into the shack.

Harry's stomach grumbled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't been eating since yesterday.

'Bloody hell, why are you sleeping in the shack, BOY? And why are you not wearing clothes?' he hollered.

'Uncle Vernon. I...'

Harry felt his stomach twist and knot painfully but defiantly he held his uncle's gaze and continued.

 _Don't screw this up._

'You told me I shouldn't return before this morning,' he started carefully, 'so I thought if I stayed in the shack there wouldn't be any neighbours who might ask silly questions. You know?'

Expectantly he looked at his uncle who appeared to be thinking.

'Mhh,' Vernon muttered half-heartedly. 'Maybe you are not quite as stupid as you look. Grab your shirt, get back in the house and see that you don't stain anything.'

Scrutinizing the boy, he added 'Where is all this dirt coming from?' but didn't really wait for an answer. 'Shower and stay out of my sight! I have a lot to do today! No funny acting up, no balk talk, understood?'

'Yes, Sir.'

x x x

Tom hadn't slept well and now his weariness was catching up on him. Breakfast was a difficult affair. He was still very tired and certainly he was not in the mood to answer a lot of questions. His wife had cast him an ominous look, the baby cradled in her arms, but she hadn't pressed the matter with their kids present. There was time to talk later.

'Dad, what's going on?' Sam asked, his voice full of concern. 'Why were you sleeping on the couch?'

'Listen Sam, I just had a rough day at work yesterday, that's all. Okay?' He snapped, quite harshly, and regretted it instantly.

Disheartened, his son started picking his fruit loops, surprised by the unexpected rebuff. There weren't a lot of moments where his dad flat out refused to talk to him.

'Daddy is angry with you, Sammy,' his little girl stated. She had been busy with her breakfast, but now a frown had formed on her forehead.

With a sigh, Tom had to admit that he was being unfair. He got grumpy when he slept too little.

'What did I do?' his son asked, clearly hurt.

With another sigh, Tom gently stroked his son's cheek.

'You haven't done anything wrong at all. I am sorry I snapped at you. I shouldn't have done that. And no – Marie – I am not angry with Sam,' he added.

'I just had a rough day yesterday and didn't sleep well. That's why I am tired now, it has nothing to do with both of you. I promise. And now let's get you ready for the Gregory's, okay? Mummy needs to do some shopping today and it would be awfully boring for you two to go with her.'

Reluctantly, Sam nodded, reached out for his dad's hand, held it close to his face, and leaned against his father's chest.

Marie was delighted to see her brother in reach and started tousling his hair.

Sam laughed heartily and turned his head until he was able to see her.

'You might want to get unstuck before we go to the Gregory's? I am not carrying you around all day!' he teased.

A broad grin spread on his face, causing his sister to giggle.

'Not all day, but now? Please! Sammy, please!'

With that Marie reached for her older brother's shoulders, delighted to find herself being picked up again.

'Can you get her ready for the Gregory's?' Tom asked, glancing at his watch. 'I need to talk to Mum and then we really have to get going!'

'Alright, Dad.' With that Sam left to get him and his sister dressed.

With a smile, Tom watched his kids leave to the hallway. Then his gaze met his wife's eyes that lay on him.

'So what's this about?' she asked. 'What kept you awake?'

Glancing once more towards the hallway, Tom figured that he wouldn't have a chance to spread out the whole story for his wife just now.

'Remember the little girl that used to get beaten up by her father?'

His wife nodded.

'Feels like it's happening all over again.'

'You mean you have seen her?' Dana inquired.

'No,' Tom shook his head. 'Different kid, same story. I think. But I can't prove it.'

With a sad look on her face, his wife got up and walked towards Tom, stroking his cheek gently. Pressing his face into her hand and holding on to hers with his other hand, he said to no one in particular

'I just don't want to make the same mistake all over again.'

'Why didn't you tell me about it last night?'

'That was before I saw him on the playing ground.'

'What do you mean?'

'It was a while after you had gone to bed when I thought I heard some child crying out there.'

Intrigued, Dana looked at her husband, but didn't interrupt.

'When I went outside, he saw me and took off. I went after him, but I didn't see where he had run off to.'

Dana sighed.

'But that's different from before. Why not call the police?'

'I meant to!' Tom said, running his hands through his hair. 'But I didn't have my cell on me. And once I was back, I wasn't sure that it'd be the best option anymore. I just didn't want to make the same mistake twice.

'So what are you going to do about this?' Dana inquired.

'Well,' Tom started slowly. 'I thought I'd check on his record, see if there is anything I can do. I will call as soon as I am in the surgery and see that he gets another appointment. I need to know if he is back home by now.'

'And what will you do then? What will be different from the last time?' his wife asked, a thoughtful look on her face.

'I don't know yet, I was thinking that maybe we could try and get in touch with the family,' Tom said through gritted teeth. 'After all they seem to live in the neighbourhood. Maybe I can just check on him...'

'But how are you going to do that?' his wife asked, but was interrupted by their kids calling from the hallway.

'I will figure something out,' Tom said.

Then, with a sigh he got up, kissing his wife goodbye and poking his baby girl in the ribs, kissing her on the forehead.

'Let's talk about this tonight.'

x x x


	4. Lies and Deception

Hello and welcome to you, dear reader! As always, thanks for your brilliant reviews. It's good to see you back. Let us then return to the little boy who tries so hard to finally make it right when there is so little he could do to please his uncle and find the love and acceptance he craves for...

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 4 – Lies and Deceptions**

Still muttering, Vernon had gone back into the house. _What had gotten into the kid? Now he'd be late. And it was entirely the boy's fault._

Usually he had to be in the office by 9 o'clock. Nothing was working out today. He hadn't been able to sleep properly for his wife had been nagging him about the boy.

'What if something happens to him? What if somebody sees him?' She had ploughed on like a broken record.

'What if, what if ... ,' Vernon had grumbled, annoyed by his wife.

If Petunia hadn't fallen asleep at last, he probably would have lost the better part of his hearing and the remainders of his sanity. Or his restraint for that matter.

 _It's always the boy causing trouble,_ he thought angrily. Somehow, he felt more techy than usual. Since a while, he had felt this mounting frustration and it just wouldn't cease. He had been so tired that he had slept in. Petunia, troubled by last night's events, had completely forgotten to set her alarm as well. She had jerked awake suddenly when her husband's hollering had broken the silence.

'Why the hell is it already 11 o'clock? Petunia, WHY didn't you wake me for heaven's sake!?'

Everything had just gone wrong. It had taken him ages to fall asleep. Then, in the middle of the night, he had been woken by some creaking sound resonating from the backyard. By the time he had shuffled out of his bed and made his way to the window to rant at whoever possessed the audacity to make such a noise at this time of night, everything was quiet again. It was dark and there was no one to be seen. Grumpily he had returned to his bed, trying to get some more sleep which was hard in his annoyed state of mind.

And when he had finally woken up, the boy hadn't been there! He would have expected him to come back home whining and begging to be let in again, but he hadn't. Now he had to look for him! What next?

 _What if Petunia was right? If someone had seen the boy, maybe taken him with him? Possibly the boy had been telling swashbuckling stories to a stranger, badmouthing them in every imaginable way._

Just to make sure, he had checked the boy's room upstairs. You never knew. Finding it deserted, the door still hanging loosely in its hinges, he heard the telephone ringing downstairs.

Petunia already rushed to answer it, so he continued his search now even further annoyed by the sight of the abused door. It was yet another thing that had to be fixed and would cost him money. The fact that he had broken it himself didn't matter the least. After all, the boy had made him do it.

Vernon had circled the house to ensure that the boy wasn't sitting in front of some window or backyard door, when Dudley detected him in the shed.

At first he thought he was going to strangle the boy, but somehow he felt immensely relieved that he obviously had not left the property, meaning there wouldn't be any people asking funny questions whatsoever.

 _You can always deal with this later..._ Vernon thought. _Now isn't the time, you are late already!_

He had made short shrift of the boy and walked back into the house to grab his stuff. Having missed one of his three favourite meals before noon, (breakfast, which marginally outranked brunch and pre-lunch snacks), he gulped down some donuts which lay on a serving dish in the kitchen while his wife, standing next to the telephone, looked terribly flushed.

'Darling, that was your work! They have been wondering where you were,' she stammered, her hands shaking a little. There had already been five unanswered calls once she had gotten down to it, but no one had left a message. Neither did Petunia recognise the number. She saw no point in mentioning these calls to her husband and upsetting him only further.

With one look, Vernon seized her up and raised a brow.

'I told them the boy was sick and you had to take him to the doctor's. I said you were really sorry and would show up as soon as the matter here was handled. They understood you forgot to call. See, everything is okay; you won't have anyone bothering you because of this. Contrary, they fully understood that you cared so much.'

Again, Vernon threw her a nasty look. She felt that, obviously, she had chosen a wrong path. Nevertheless, Vernon didn't seem to be in a mood for discussions.

Not sure what she had done wrong but immensely relieved that she wasn't bombarded with accusations, Petunia handed him another handful of donuts and his briefcase when the telephone rang yet again. Grabbing the food and his briefcase, Vernon hurried towards the door.

'Tell them it took a little longer and I will be there as soon as possible!' he shouted and pointedly shut the front door as the telephone kept ringing mercilessly. A little annoyed, Petunia snatched the receiver, taking a deep breath.

'Listen, I just told you my husband had to take our poor little nephew to the doctor's. He got sick unexpectedly and my husband had to take care of him. He will be in as soon as possible!'

 _Silence._

'Uhm. Mrs. Dursley. This is Dr. Connor speaking. I just wanted to call upon a rather dispensable matter regarding your nephew's clinical record. But I take it that your husband is bringing him here this moment?'

Petunia breathed. She felt heat rising in her body. Her mind was racing. Usually she was quite good making up excuses when it came to those matters.

But firstly, this was very sudden, and secondly, what was she supposed to say _now_?

Usually _'I call you back, but the boy is very sick and I have to look after him'_ would do just fine. But she doubted its effect on a doctor who'd probably be delighted to help.

The image of the sloppily dressed, very _abnormal_ doctor, returned to her mind as her disgust for this horrible person got in the way with her effort to put on a smile. Petunia was convinced that – even through the phone – she would sound much more polite and convincing this way.

'Mrs. Dursley?' Tom interrupted the long silence. What if something had happened to the boy because he hadn't intervened earlier? More urgently, he repeated 'Mrs. Dursley! Please tell me what happened? _When_ did this happen?'

Now it was Petunia feeling even more uneasy. Why was this person so agitated? Finally she regained some of her composure.

'Dr. Connor! How _lovely_ of you to call! I must apologize, you surprised me. I didn't even have the chance to put down the receiver as I just had to calm my husband's employer, you see? We have had a rough morning so far.'

 _Silence._

Petunia was getting nervous. _This wasn't working out properly._

'Surely I will be able to help as soon as they arrive. I am afraid they are not here yet,' Tom offered.

'Uhm. No.' _Think!_

 _Silence._

'You see, Harry suffered a nasty fall this morning. He was playing outside with Dudley.'

'Didn't you say he got sick?' Tom asked.

 _Silence._

'What happened then?' Tom tried again.

'Yes, well... you see, I took your concern quite seriously and sent the boys outside to get some fresh air in the sunlight, get some exercise. They took their bikes with them. Obviously they wanted to try out some tricks and of course they didn't tell me! I would never have allowed something so dangerous, believe me! Somehow Harry must have attempted something quite difficult and fell off his bike. We were so scared when Dudley brought him back home! Vernon thought it'd be better to take him to the hospital, just in case they needed to x-ray or something like that, you know?'

 _Petunia, you are a genius!_

'Oh, I see. Hopefully Harry will be better soon. I will make an appointment for him for a second check-up then,' Tom offered, a bit discouraged. He felt like a bulldozer had just run him over.

'NO! I mean... no, thank you very much! That really won't be necessary. I am sure everything will be taken care of in hospital but be assured if there is any need for a check-up any time soon, I will call you immediately!'

'Well... I see. How is Dudley?'

'What?'

'Your son. He must feel quite shaken. He wasn't hurt?'

'Oh no, don't you worry about him. He got frightened quite a bit but he is alright. He felt terribly guilty for having let Harry attempt such a stunt. But, you know, boys will be boys. They are reckless and wild and impossible to tame at this age.'

'Aha.'

Petunia felt the better part of her poise returning. Obviously the doctor was finally running out of funny questions to ask. She was truly unbeaten when it came to those things.

Satisfied with her performance, a genuine smile started to show on her face, all disgust and resentment nearly forgotten. With a much more friendly voice, she added

'You must apologize, but I have to take care of Dudley now. Feel free to call anytime, Mr. Connor.'

Having said this, Petunia hung up the receiver quickly. Sighing, she sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, closed her eyes for a moment and started rubbing little circles into her temples.

x x x

Hot water was overflowing Harry's body. Although it was stinging his bruised knees it felt quite nice to wash off all the dirt and blood that seemed to stick to his entire body. He had put on the dirty torn shirt again before going inside, for he knew that one thing Petunia hated even more than running around the house with filthy clothes was running around the house with no clothes at all. Although he was still wearing his (ripped) pants, he didn't want to risk any further provocations.

Once Vernon had stomped off to the house, Harry had made his way back into the house and slipped upstairs while he heard his aunt agitatedly talking to his uncle in the kitchen. _Do not make a mess and stay out of their sight..._ he kept telling himself as he tried not to leave any dirty footprints with his bare feet.

He had reached the bathroom undisturbed and locked the door from the inside.

 _Just to be on the safe side._

There was some more muttering coming from downstairs, but it soon ceased as Vernon left the house. _He must be working late today..._ Harry thought, but didn't give it a second thought.

For now, all he was interested in was a hot shower which wasn't limited to a couple of minutes due to the fact that Uncle Vernon wasn't around to make sure that he 'didn't waste any more hot water than necessary'.

Dudley, on the other hand, got to use as much hot water as he liked – probably his parents were happy when their son didn't have to be forced to shower at all.

The first time Vernon had made a rude comment on Harry wasting too much water, Harry had felt very hurt and suggested he could take a bath in the kettle the next time.

Luckily his uncle hadn't put that suggestion into action, although Harry had to endure half an hour of chiding and listen to insults how ungrateful and worthless he was until Vernon had managed to talk himself into a complete rage. Furiously he had smacked Harry upstairs and not let him out of his room until the next morning.

Shrugging off this memory, Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply, concentrating on the warmth relaxing his tense muscles.

He tried to imagine that all of yesterday's events were stuck to him. Every tense moment, every slap, every hurtful comment, being kicked out, scared to death in the middle of the night by some stranger, and finally returning home safely. All the dirt resembled pieces of this and he could just wash it off.

 _This felt so good!_

Holding his breath for a few seconds, Harry tried very hard to capture this moment.

Opening his eyes again, he started rubbing vigorously here and there to get the dirt off his skin. The water soon adapted a very muddy colour, only highlighted by little red trails when he tried to wash the dirt from his knees.

He hissed when the stinging pain returned once more as he attempted to pick little pieces of grit out of his knees, but this time, soaked like he was, they came out easily.

After having succeeded in removing all the remnants from Uncle Vernon's driveway from his knees, Harry had sat down and leaned his head against the wall, letting the water drum on his head, knees drawn up to his chest.

After a moment that felt way too short, violent knocking let Harry's mind snap back to the present.

'Harry! What are you doing in there so long?' his Aunt shouted.

'Uncle Vernon told me to take a shower, Aunt Petunia! I will be done in a second!'

'You have been in there for fifteen minutes for crying out loud! Finish and do your chores!'

'Yes, Aunt Petunia!' Harry shouted obediently.

Reluctantly, Harry stood up again and made sure there wasn't any dirt left in the shower. Eying the freshly washed towels he decided to take one – after all he was thoroughly cleaned now. Carefully grabbing his clothes which were still very dirty, he unlocked the bathroom door again and snuck into his bedroom, looking at his broken door.

 _Maybe Uncle Vernon wasn't able to lock him in anymore now?_ Harry smiled. _The door didn't really look like it was in any state to be properly closed._

Quickly, Harry figured the downside of this, though _._ Not being able to shut the door at all really wasn't much of an advantage when Uncle Vernon was close by.

Getting into seconds of way too big pants and a shirt which actually fit his size (Dudley had grown out of it years ago), he wondered what he was going to do if these trousers got ripped as well. After all, they were his last remaining pair.

Would Aunt Petunia actually jump the fence and buy him a new pair? Chances were good when she had to consider the alternative.

Carefully folding the torn pants and his shirt, he decided to settle this before his uncle would return from work. Also, he was very hungry by now. Walking downstairs, he found Petunia in the kitchen, enthusiastically scrubbing pans and pots which looked like they had never been used before.

Anxiously Harry walked towards her.

'Aunt Petunia?' he asked carefully.

'What?' Petunia lashed out, quickly dabbing at her eye with the back of her hand.

'Uhm. Last night, these got torn... somehow. I am not sure if they can be patched up.'

Petunia seemed to study him for several seconds, making him feel very uneasy. Her expression was unreadable when he held the clothes towards her.

'I'd try to patch them if you showed me how, though,' Harry added quickly, hoping to appease her with his offer.

Another moment passed during which he was eyed dismissively. Then Petunia snatched the clothing out of his hand and dumped it in the waste bin with a disgusted glare.

'Those can't be patched, stupid child. Get out of my sight!'

With that she turned around and started scrubbing pans again, completely ignoring his pitiful presence.

Not being able to voice his hurt and too afraid to ask for breakfast now, he turned around and decided to head for the backyard where he had to mow the lawn and water all sorts of exclusive (but yet very damageable) plants Petunia kept to make sure her garden was looking nicer than that of her next door neighbour.

 _What if I ignored you too?_ Harry thought, eying some gladiolas. _I could stamp on you. I could just stand here and watch you wither. Or I could drown you. What would you do about it?_

Tears were welling up in Harry's eyes. Despite serious consideration, he knew better than to commit violence against his aunt's status symbols. Chocking back his sobs, he started to rip weeds from the flower bed, a little more forcefully than necessary perhaps.

x x x

Tom was restless. Upon entering his surgery he had asked for the boy's clinical record which turned out to be a rather brief affair. The record seemed – nicely put – very incomplete and only contained his personal data and some information regarding check-ups he had missed. A handwritten note which was probably attached by the last doctor the boy had been to read

' _Didn't show up for due check-up. No return call, yet.'_

 _That seemed to be a good pretence to call the family again,_ Tom had thought.

He could ask some questions about his past state of health, inquire about allergies and further details which could be medically relevant to – as he would claim – complete the record to be able to treat him properly in the future. And somehow he would find a pretense to make another appointment for that boy, maybe the allergy test that Harry had never taken before.

And he had started to call the Dursleys as soon as he had retrieved their phone number from the boy's record. Three, four, five times he had called, using small pauses in between patients. But no one had answered the phone. Tom was growing more restless by the minute. Then the line had been busy. At least now he knew somebody had to be home. Finally, he heard a click that told him that his call had finally been picked up.

Moments later, he had been overrun by the mind-blowing story about the accident. He had to admit that he had been caught off guard. Somehow this woman had presented this story without hesitation, leaving no chances for it to be doubted or questioned at all. He wondered whether, by any chance, she had actually told him the truth. Yet the unnerving feeling had returned. After all, those descriptions did not match at all with the impression of this family he had gotten from their first visit to his surgery. He hadn't managed to think of something to say then, though.

 _Most importantly, the boy has apparently returned home by now_ , Tom thought. Maybe his night time stroll was yet undetected by his family. Or his aunt was _really_ good with keeping up that facade. _Surely she wouldn't make up such a big story if her nephew was still missing, right?_

Not sure what to make out of Petunia's explanation, he had tried to check and called a friend and former colleague at the central hospital and enquired about a 9-year-old boy named 'Potter' being admitted, possibly exhibiting injuries from a suffered bike accident or else.

Although his colleague had checked several times to make sure, the result stayed the same.

'Sorry Tom, no one by the name of "Potter" has been admitted today. In none of the hospitals close by. We have had a car crash and a domestic accident but apart from that, nothing which involved a kid.'

'What kind of domestic accident?'

'Playing girl who fell down a ladder her father had set up to repaint the house. She broke her leg.'

'Too bad, that's not what I was looking for. Thanks anyway, Jeff!'

'Not a problem, Tom. Want me to call if your patient is admitted later on today?'

'Yes, that'd be nice. Although I reckon that he will not be showing up anymore. I think this might be more of a misunderstanding. Sorry, Jeff. Thanks anyway.'

'Not a problem at all, you're welcome.'

Tom had sat back in his chair and scratched his head again, holding on to the fang pierced into his ear.

He couldn't believe it. Either he had missed something, or the woman had flat out lied to him!

This feeling was sickening. Obviously there was something _off_ , yet there wasn't one tangible fact, not one thing he could be sure of or a way to get his hands on the problem.

Time seemed to stand still. Tom felt that he was neglecting his work, his patients. Neither was he able to concentrate properly.

Feeling guilty about it didn't really help at all, yet he couldn't refrain from doing so. With every passing hour, his mind wandered back to the boy who was so mysteriously kept away from everybody who could possibly care.

 _What was he supposed to do?_

When his working day had finally come to an end, he was regarded by his receptionist pitifully before she said goodbye and left him to lock up the surgery. He felt miserable and useless.

He had planned to help the boy. Figure out something. Anything! Take action and get going with this matter. And what had he achieved? He felt as if he had been cheated, lied to and ridiculed, and yet nothing had changed for the boy. And his plan to get him back to the surgery had been crushed so smoothly, he hadn't been quick enough to come up with an alternative.

Outside it had started to rain lightly.

Angry with himself, Tom got into his car and turned on the radio. Hopefully his mood would lighten up once he returned to his wife and kids. They didn't deserve to be left alone all day and then have to deal with their sulky and bad-tempered father.

x x x

Vernon was outraged. His whole day had been troublesome and just didn't seem to end.

Upon his arrival at work, his boss had summoned him to his office, inquiring about his nephew's health, somehow expecting a rather detailed description of this morning's events.

Vernon was neither as good with made-up stories as Petunia was, nor did he know what she had actually been telling his boss. Trying hard to remember what she had said (that he took the boy to the doctor for he was sick) he mumbled something about a sudden fever the boy had caught.

'In the middle of the summer?' His boss had questioned, a frown forming on his forehead. 'What kind of fever is it? What did the doctor say?'

Putting all his effort into keeping his face from adapting a hydrant's colour, Vernon bowed his head pitifully to one side and continued with his ordeal.

'Oh, you _know_ how these doctors are. Putting all those important-sounding terms to quite minor issues. It probably was half as bad as it sounded, but of course we had to make sure. The _poor_ boy!'

He suppressed a disgusted grunt that had started to make its way up his throat.

'Well, Dursley. _What_ has he got then?' his boss had pressed irritably.

Vernon was getting mad now. He couldn't think when someone was nagging him like that! His mind was racing as much as it could and it stopped at the next best thing he figured suitable when recalling the past days.

'Some kind of allergic reaction,' he finally said.

 _Yes! That was good!_

'See, the boys were in for their due vaccinations yesterday. And somehow the little one must have responded badly to it overnight. He was treated for it and now everything's alright again, not to worry,' Vernon managed. Now he was quite pleased with himself.

Obviously this had been thought-provoking. His boss gave him an uneasy glance.

'An allergic reaction to a verified vaccine? How very unusual. Don't you have your kids tested for allergies?'

'Of course we have!' Vernon snapped instantly.

'But then, clearly the doctor didn't pay attention to your boy's clinical record! You should seriously consider pressing charges, Dursley! And you are calling this a minor issue?'

After all, his boss didn't seem to take this as lightly as Vernon had hoped.

'This is serious, Dursley! I have kids of my own. I think every father would be upset by this.'

After a pause which Vernon Dursley was obviously unwilling to fill, he continued.

'Make sure you get a detailed report from that doctor and keep me informed of what has actually happened, please. I am very eager to hear about it!'

With that he started working on some papers again which lay in front of him on his working desk, leaving Vernon Dursley in the middle of his office, quite taken aback.

The boy was driving Vernon insane. _It'd be his fault if he lost his job eventually! How was he supposed to keep up with this story now?_ Since the day Harry had been dumped at their doorstep, he had had nothing but trouble with him. Funny questions had started and never ceased henceforth.

'What's the matter, Dursley?' His boss looked up again, obviously intrigued by the fact that his employee was still standing in the middle of his office, daydreaming and, even worse, therefore not working.

'Oh, nothing, I will get to work immediately!' With that, Vernon turned around slowly to leave the office.

'And Dursley...' his boss added patronisingly.

'Yes?'

'You have my full sympathy for being late this morning. Hopefully your boy makes a full recovery. But make sure you complete your morning's work with the rest of your daily share before leaving! I would hate to see your division trail behind.'

'Yes, Sir.'

'And Dursley... ?'

'Yes, Sir?'

'I have noticed figures have gone down in your division recently. Is there something I should know about? Something bothering you lately?'

'No, Sir.' Vernon's face was purple again.

'Sure nothing else has distracted you from your work?'

'Of course not, Sir.'

'I just wanted to let you know that young Cobley from Level Three has been making very good progess lately with his division. Impressive figures. And my superiors would love to merge some sections too keep our business competitive.'

'I understand, Sir,' Vernon pressed.'

'Fantastic, Dursley,' his boss stated and resumed with the papers lying in front of him. Then he looked back up again and added 'And don't you forget to keep me updated on your nephew and this doctor of yours.'

With a nod, Vernon turned around and stomped off to his office. He kept lashing out towards subordinates all day. His colleagues regarded him carefully when he kept ploughing through the corridors of their company building and tried to avoid him. They considered themselves fortunate that their kids were healthy (of course word got around) and decided that it would be best to stay out of Vernon Dursley's way until his boy had made a full recovery and he would be less bothered by the worries about the boy.

Vernon had trouble concentrating and besides the daily contingent he had to complete, the morning's work share was setting him back even more so. Three hours late he arrived back home, seething.

x x x


	5. Disjointing Realities

Hello dear reader and welcome back so soon to the next chapter of poor Harry's life. After our little protagonist had just considered himself to be back home in safety (no irony intended), his life takes yet another dramatic turn when his uncle returns from a horrible day at the office where he had to bite back his anger and frustration all day. So let's continue...

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 5 - Disjointing Realities**

'Honey, how was your day? What's the matter?' Petunia asked hesitantly.

She clearly felt uncomfortable seeing her husband in such a worked up state. Dudley was out at some friend's place and wouldn't return until tomorrow evening, she had made sure of that. Harry had been busy all day doing chores and been kept in reach so he could fix Vernon some supper once he finally returned from work. After a couple of hours she had looked after the boy and placed a plate with some sandwiches on the lawn when she was sure Harry wasn't looking. She busied herself with her laundry and sure enough, fifteen minutes later her plate had been returned to the kitchen counter. It was spotless.

After she had finished the laundry, Petunia had been pacing up and down the living room, upset by her husband's delay. It was extremely rare that he did long hours.

By the time he had arrived, she nearly wished he hadn't.

Completely ignoring his wife's concerned questions, he came to a halt in the middle of the living room.

'BOY GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!' he hollered.

'Vernon, talk to me! What happened at work? Did anybody bother you for being late? TALK to me!' Petunia started to grow desperate.

Her husband's face had adapted a nasty shade of crimson and he was barely able to suck in his breath as he continued to scream for the boy to get his lazy ass downstairs.

Harry had been in his room. He laid on his bed, massaged the wrist of his hurt hand and had for once enjoyed just lying there, in peace and quiet. As he wasn't able to close the door properly anymore (it still hung sadly in its hinges), there was no way he could pretend that he hadn't heard Uncle Vernon calling.

 _And he didn't sound good._

Slowly Harry made his way downstairs, not sure what he had done now. Once he entered the living room he saw his aunt. Apparently she tried to pacify his uncle but only managed to cause the opposite effect, though.

As soon as Vernon caught sight of the boy, he pushed Petunia aside quite harshly, ignoring her outcry, and grabbed Harry by his hair, pulling him close to his meaty face.

'Please, Uncle Vernon!' Harry pleaded. 'What did I do?'

Looking Harry directly in the eyes, Vernon made a disgusted grunt and let out a huff before slapping him across the face.

If it hadn't been for his other hand holding onto the boy's hair, surely the blow would have knocked him off his feet. Tears were welling up in Harry's eyes instantly.

'Please, Uncle Vernon, what did I do?' he cried.

 _This audacity. This pure insolence._

With another blow, he let go of Harry and watched him crawl backwards until he bumped into Petunia who was now approaching her husband with her hands held high. She was still trying to appease him, and still to no avail.

'Vernon, TALK to me! What has happened?' Petunia was nearly screaming, her voice hoarse.

 _Why was she nagging him now? WHY? He couldn't stand any more stupid questions!_

'THANKS to that _freak_ over there (he pointed at Harry who had curled up behind his aunt), I am about to lose my job! I can't sleep! I am late for work! And have to make up silly excuses which are being questioned by my boss now because YOU told him I had to bring THE BOY to the bloody doctor!'

He jabbed every fifth or sixth word into Petunia's collarbone.

'Vernon, please.' Petunia looked like she was going to cry any moment. 'Calm down so we can talk about it. We will figure it out!'

'NO!' Vernon was outraged.

He had done enough talking today and obviously it hadn't gotten him anywhere. At work he had been forced to bottle up his anger all day, but no one dared to tell him what to do under his own roof!

Angrily he looked at Petunia who stood right between him and the boy. Judged by the look on her face, she had just come to a similar conclusion. Grabbing her by the shoulders, Vernon pushed her out of the living room, completely ignoring her shocked protest and cry of pain when her shoulder made contact with the doorframe.

Stunned, she held on to the wall behind her, rubbing her shoulder with the other hand. With eyes wide-opened she watched her husband whirl around once more approaching Harry, his index finger pointed directly at his face.

'YOU are making all our lives miserable,' Vernon shouted. 'Since the day you came to us you have been useless, ungrateful and utterly worthless! LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!'

Fearfully Harry glanced up to his uncle, firmly clutching his arms around his body, rocking back and forth. Some tears were clinging to his eyelashes, as if they were refusing to be shed yet.

'Name _ONE_ reason why I shouldn't throw you out right now!' Vernon whispered in a very strained sort of way.

Harry was trying to think hard what sort of answer he could possibly give in that situation, but his mind betrayed him. It felt as if it were some sticky impenetrable mass in which several thoughts were forming, never able to reach his mouth, let alone come out.

 _The neighbours will know._

 _You already did and it just made everything worse._

Harry sobbed, images of the past night flashing through his mind.

Oh how he wished to be someplace else! Away from here! Away from his uncle! Somewhere he wouldn't need to be scared.

Ironically this was also what he feared most, being chucked out again.

He hated himself for being so stupid. The ambivalence of his feelings felt like it would crush him any moment. _And why was it always his fault?_ Looking at his purple-faced uncle, anger rose in Harry which he hadn't been there before.

'I will tell!'

Harry didn't know where that had come from, and regretted his words instantly.

Vernon gaped at Harry for a second and then faced his wife.

'Did you hear that? He's asking for it! The boy is bloody _asking_ for it!' he raged.

'No, Vernon!' Petunia urged. 'He's right. Just think of the neighbours. They might notice.'

Pointing his beefy index finger right at Petunia he screamed 'No, they won't! And _you_ will make sure of that!'

With that, he unbuckled his belt and folded it halfway, holding it with his right hand. With the other hand he grabbed Harry by his left forearm with which he had tried to cover his head and flung him across the couch.

'I'll teach you to be smart with me!' he said, more to himself.

Angrily he kept lashing out at the boy, ignoring his wife's protests. The boy was holding on to the couch, whimpering, but not daring to say another word.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to press his face into the cushions, afraid to make a sound.

As blows kept coming, he held his breath.

x x x

' _This isn't real!'_ Harry kept telling himself as he started to withdraw his mind from the scene and shut his eyes tightly. _This isn't happening._

Closing off his heart from the cruel reality, Harry found himself in a realm of his mind which had nothing to offer but comfort and solace. Here was no place for hurt or condescension. Here he felt at ease. He had never been here before.

Intrigued by the happiness Harry felt, he dared to take a look around. There were solid walls surrounding him. No corners, no edges, just walls seamlessly encircling him. Yet he didn't feel trapped. It was rather reverse, everybody else who was unwanted seemed to be shut out.

An unfamiliar, though not unpleasant, feeling built up in his stomach and spread through his body. It emanated warmth and some kind of safety. Here _he_ was in charge. Here nothing happened he did not want to happen!

Tentatively, Harry took a few steps into one direction. The walls seemed to respond to his movement, smoothly shifting with every pace. Turning around he moved into the other direction – and again was presented with the same result.

Everything here was exactly the way he needed it to be. But did it have to look so dull? Pivoting once more Harry caught sight of some trees which had appeared behind him. Surely they hadn't been there a couple of moments ago! Walking closer towards them, he could hear some birds chipper serenely. Taking another look around, he found that his protective barrier hadn't failed him and closed up right behind him, still radiating that pleasant warmth.

Outstretching his hand towards it, Harry found it to be of an unidentifiable texture. It was shimmering silvery, almost transparent and it felt like warm water, but yet more solid. Feeling assured Harry faced the trees again. More and more plants appeared he had never seen before. They were entangled with the trees, forming pretty shapes. Red mist was lingering and drew his attention, it looked like a unique sunset, impossible to describe. He had never seen such a beautiful scene before!

For a moment, he even thought that he heard children's laughter and felt the wish to move closer to it. Drawing nearer to the trees, Harry made out a playground. It looked familiar, though it was bigger and harboured some diverse play equipment. Kids were playing happily and looked at him as he had reached the trees.

Cautiously, Harry paused to see if the children would run away. But they just kept looking until a little girl waved him nearer. Obviously she tried to include him into their game.

Harry's heart leapt. He held his breath once more and took a step towards the little girl, but suddenly felt himself unable to move! The lingering mist became thicker and impenetrable. Harry felt like he was losing control, as if he was being removed from the scene. He outstretched his hands once more as if trying to hold on to the situation but he wasn't in charge anymore. He felt a violent shake tear him away from his sanctuary.

x x x

Usually Vernon's frustration demounted slowly when he had a chance to work off his anger, but this time it didn't work.

 _The boy didn't even care!_

Vernon was upset.

 _'I will tell!' he had said!_

He had been lying there not moving at all, just ignoring him!

Growing even angrier upon this assessment, Vernon threw his belt aside and grabbed the boy by the shoulder, pulling him to his feet again violently. For a moment he thought that he had seen a smile on the boy's face, definitely gone lunatic.

Then the boy had opened his eyes and looked into his uncle's face, full of confusion.

'WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?' Vernon screamed. 'DON'T EVEN CARE, DO YOU?'

Harry was at a loss of words. He felt confused and scared. Suddenly all those fearful emotions had been driven away. _He had shut them out! He had separated all the hurt from his heart._ At least until Uncle Vernon had jerked him out of this serene state of mind.

Overwhelmed, Harry didn't know how to put any words to his feelings. When his uncle still didn't say a word and shook him again, as if to shake out some answers, he finally replied with a weak voice.

'Please, Uncle Vernon. What do you expect of me?'

Harry was still confused and sure that whatever he'd say, it'd be wrong anyway.

'Answer me! Don't you care about us? Do you like to make us feel miserable?' Vernon was too frustrated to even scream.

Taking heart in the fact that his uncle wasn't yelling anymore, Harry wiped away some stray tears and tried to reason with his him.

'Please. I never meant to make your life any harder than it already is. You must believe me! And I am sorry you were burdened with such a thing... with me.'

 _Silence._

'Please tell me what you are expecting of me. I never know what I am supposed to do to make it right! Somehow everything I do turns out wrong.'

 _Silence._

Vernon seemed to have no answers left, running out of accusations or any possible threats he could think of. He felt unable to cope. Unable to let go of his anger.

He had been determined to smack some sense into that boy. Make him understand that he was not to be questioned. Not to be debated with. Make sure he had an awful day, too. Yet the kid was trying to reason with him!

 _Why was everybody nagging him like that?_

'Just be less _freaky_.' Vernon finally said weakly. Nothing was working out properly.

He nearly whispered those last words as he held one hand to his sweaty forehead and turned around. Grabbing his car keys which lay on a tray next to the coffee table, he glanced at Petunia who had blended in with the wall.

'Don't wait for me.'

With that he left her standing dumbfounded and headed outside. He would have to forget this lousy day!

Petunia leaned her head against the doorframe as she watched the little boy slump down wretchedly on the carpet. One moment he had been alarmingly stoic and reasonable, the next moment he was looking miserable, shedding crocodile tears. He looked up at her and suddenly, the distant gaze his eyes had harboured a moment ago, was gone. There he was again. The little nine-year-old boy she resented so much.

'Aunt Petunia? What it is that makes me so _freaky_?' Harry sobbed.

She tried to collect some of that hatred she had always been able to find somewhere within when telling herself to ignore the boy, whose mere presence made her feel less important, outshone. But she couldn't bring herself to do it this time.

x x x

' _Tuney! What's happening to me?'_ Lily had asked, sobbing heart-wrenchingly.

They had played together in the backyard serenely, tossing a ball back and forth. When Lily missed the catch and the ball impended to hit her on the head, flashes of light came out of nothingness and blasted the ball into several pieces. Both girls had been terribly frightened, but upon questioning her sister how she had done it, she had just collapsed, unable to keep from crying.

Lily didn't know what had happened, but it had happened before. And now it had happened again.

' _Tuney, make it stop,'_ she had wept. Petunia didn't know what to do. Although she was intrigued by the obvious special talent her sister had displayed, she was feeling sorry for her since she desperately wanted it to stop. Lily wasn't putting herself on display. She wasn't asking for special treatment, she just wanted it to stop scaring her.

' _Please, Petunia.'_ Lily choked back a sob. _'What it is that makes me so freaky?'_

x x x

Taking a deep breath, Petunia tried to shake that memory off of her mind and walked towards Harry who was still crying his heart out. Unconsciously she stroked her shoulder. For once she wasn't really bothered by the fact that he had left again.

Looking down at the boy who had drawn his knees up to his chest and started rocking back and forth again, she stretched her hand out towards him, as if to brush a stray lock out of his face, but withdrew it just before she actually touched him.

Surprised by her unconscious gesture, she held her hand close to her chest, trying to regain some of her self-assuredness.

'Look what you made Vernon do,' she finally sighed weakly.

The boy just continued sobbing, but didn't look up _._

'Why don't you go upstairs and get some sleep. It is really late.'

x x x

Morning came and Vernon hadn't returned yet.

Petunia wasn't sure if she was to feel relieved that at least he hadn't come home in the middle of the night and resumed the evening issue. But after all it was Friday, and he had one and a half working days left before the weekend would start for him. She didn't dare call his work again. What if she told his boss another story which then wouldn't comply with her husband's version, in case he had made some own arrangements or – maybe – even shown up at work?

 _Luckily, Dudley is still at his friend's,_ Petunia thought. Then the other boy sprang to her mind. She hadn't seen him yet.

 _Surely he would be alright, right?_

Deciding to ensure – just in case – Petunia walked upstairs and tentatively pushed Harry's bedroom door open which looked like it might fall down any second. Taking a look around the room, she only saw the deserted bed but couldn't make out Harry.

 _Damn those window boards,_ she thought.

She shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, trying to accustom her eyes to the darkness. Yet she had this beleaguering feeling that she didn't want to step any further into the room.

Somehow it felt like an invisible barrier had been erected, coldness was emanating from the room.

'Harry?'

Nothing moved.

'Harry!?'

When again nothing happened and Petunia had already turned around, wondering where she was supposed to look for the boy now, she heard a scarcely audible creak coming from somewhere behind the bed, followed by absolute stillness.

Turning around once more, she made out her nephew who had crawled up on his bed, behind which he had obviously been crouching as if trying to hide, carefully eying her.

'Aunt Petunia?'

'What is it... _Harry_?'

Somehow the coldness seemed to decrease a little.

'Is he gone?'

'Yes.'

'What happened last night? What did I do?'

Actually Petunia wasn't sure herself. Usually she would have responded that his mere presence would be sufficient reason, but remembering her husband's harsh treatment, those emotions got in the way with her otherwise cold attitude.

'Nothing,' she answered.

Definitely she wasn't going to pour her heart out to that boy, yet she had made up her mind and was determined to do something, anything, to make this feeling go away her husband had left her with, feeling so helpless, so out of charge.

'Maybe it would be a good idea if you got some fresh air,' Petunia finally said with a unfamiliar strain to her voice.

'Freshen up, grab some breakfast and then go play outside. And don't come back before tonight. Before I got the chance to sort out some things and I ... you wouldn't want to get in the way, right?'

'Okay, Aunt Petunia.' Harry answered carefully.

Head held low, he shuffled out of the bedroom and made his way to the bathroom.

 _Why was she so nice to him all of a sudden?_ Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for his aunt.

He was used to being treated unfairly. But as for his aunt, yesterday must have offered a completely new experience for her.

 _See, that's what it feels like_ , Harry thought, but regretted it immediately. _No_. He really didn't wish this to anybody, not even his Aunt Petunia.

Taking a look at himself in the mirror, he ran his fingers along the outlines of two overlapping bruises which were showing on his left cheekbone.

'Aunt Petunia?' The apprehension in his voice was nearly tangible.

Petunia had still been standing in his bedroom's doorframe and now stuck her head insight the bathroom.

 _'What_ is it... Harry?' She forced.

Uncovering the bruise, he hesitantly tilted his head towards her, ashamed to be putting himself on display in such a manner.

'Won't people ask... _funny_ questions?' Harry inquired, trying to make his question sound less ridiculous than it was.

Petunia figured that the boy was right. With a sigh, she shoved the boy towards the toilet.

'Sit down,' she ordered.

Harry did as he was told and watched his aunt closely. She took a tin from her bathroom shelf and grabbed something which looked like a little sponge, then she came back, halting in front of him.

When she reached out for Harry's chin he flinched, causing her to let out a little huff.

'Let me handle this, okay?' she said tetchily.

 _She wasn't doing this for the boy,_ Petunia reassured herself _. She was only doing this because others would start ask funny questions seeing him like this._

Grabbing Harry's chin with her left hand, she lifted his head up and with the other hand brushed make-up onto his cheek until the bruise seemed to be covered up quite nicely. Tilting his head towards the light, Petunia regarded her work, amending a little here and there. When she finally seemed contented, she looked at Harry whose eyes were glittering with tears.

 _What was it NOW?_

'There you go. Good as new.' Petunia said, a little annoyed by the boy's ungrateful reaction. _Hadn't she at least tried to help?_

Without another word, she turned around and left the boy sitting on the toilet lid, gently touching his cheek with his fingers again.

 _He was such a cry baby!_

He had wanted to thank his aunt. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, overwhelmed by his emotions. She had not only helped him (though Harry thought it would be for her own good, too), but she had touched him. Touched _him_! Without looking disgusted or turning the other way or running off to wash her hands a moment later, as if she had caught a disease.

Closing his eyes, he tried to regain some poise, unwilling to shed his tears and risk to ruin his aunt's work. After a few moments, he had regained his composure and stood up. For a couple of seconds, he looked at himself in the mirror, pivoting a little to the left and the right. His upper arm was bruised where his uncle had grabbed him so forcefully to drag him towards the stairs. Also, his wrist still looked swollen.

Deciding not to give his aunt any more trouble, he walked back to his bedroom, got into his pair of jeans, put on some socks and then regarded a sweatshirt that hung in his wardrobe. It would be a little warm, but it would fulfil its purpose, Harry decided.

Then he walked downstairs to find Petunia in the kitchen, cleaning.

Hesitantly he knocked against the doorframe, drawing her attention.

 _He just wanted to make sure. Make it right this time._

'I am going to play outside, right?'

'Yes.'

'When do you expect me to be back?'

'After supper.'

When Harry shot her a questioning look, she added

'I will fix it myself.'

Harry nodded carefully. Turning around, he left for his secret playground.

x x x

Albus was sitting in his headmaster's office, an unfolded letter lying in front of him. His head was resting in his hands, elbows leaned onto his table. Inquiries and well-meant suggestions which had been offered by the portrait's inhabitants surrounding him had ceased a while ago.

 _This wasn't good._

Opening his eyes again, he let out a sigh, realising that the letter was still lying there, serenely, unchanged.

 _He hadn't imagined. His old mind hadn't started to play tricks on him now. This was happening_.

Of course he had expected problems to arise at some stage, but this was too early!

Absent-mindedly twitching his long beard, he re-read the letter. He felt reminded of that moment when the little girl named Petunia had written to him for the first time, fervently begging to be admitted to Hogwarts, too. With an aching heart he had denied the girl's desire, trying to assure her that she didn't need magical abilities to show her uniqueness as that she surely was a wonderful and special little girl.

Hurt had clouded her heart and she had refused to speak to him since, until that night in which Harry's life had taken a dramatic turn, forcing him to be placed in his relative's care.

' _I know this is difficult for you Petunia'_ he had assured the woman who resembled nothing of the little girl he had known once, except for the genuine hurt which still lingered in her heart so strongly. He thought that he could feel it radiating even through her tough put on façade.

' _No matter what happens. You need to take care of him,'_ he had said. _'I realise that this will not be easy, but it is utmost important that you give him a shelter. He will call this house his home and you have to provide it for him.'_

Seeing that the woman was clearly about to refuse, he tried a different approach.

' _Petunia. Do not make a mistake and blame him for things he cannot control. He didn't ask for this. Lily didn't ask for this.'_

At this, Petunia had choked back a sob, clearly angry to have given her emotions away in front of that man she resented so much.

' _None of that!'_ she had hissed. _'I will do what you ask of me, but don't you think I am doing it for you – or the boy – OR my sister for that matter!'_

' _I see,'_ Albus had replied sadly.

He stretched out his hand towards Petunia, but she backed away several steps, causing him to slowly withdraw his hand again.

' _My dear child,'_ he barely whispered. _'I hope you will be able to forgive me for doing this to you one day. You didn't ask for this and there is nothing I can do to ease your pain, make the hurt go away. Be assured, you are – too – very special, Petunia.'_

With that he had turned around and left her standing in front of her house, a mess of emotions, anger and frustration marginally being outranked by hurt and confusion.

 _Maybe it hasn't been the best solution for all parties involved, but it was the only one_ , Albus thought.

Once more he forced himself to focus his eyes on the hastily scribbled words in front of him that had been blurred by his trail of thought.

x x x

' _Dumbledore._

 _Be assured I am not happy to write to you – again. Yet this time you will not be able to overrun my objections so easily. Harry cannot stay here. I know what you said and you know what my response has been. But times have changed._

 _You placed him in our care without asking, regardless of our position. Nothing mattered to you but your own selfish desire to handle a matter quickly. If you are still interested in Harry's safety, I recommend you take him away from here as soon as possible._

 _Petunia.'_

x x x

Tired, Albus flicked the letter aside and closed his eyes again. Countless times he had read this piece of paper, read between the lines. But apart from the hurt that was obviously still firmly set in this woman's heart and so easy to detect, the letter was neutral, imprecise.

 _What was going on? What had happened?_

The uncertainty made Albus feel uneasy. He was used to figuring things out instantly.

 _Was Petunia overreacting?_

On the other hand, he hadn't heard from her in all these years – why now?

 _No_ , Dumbledore thought. It was impossible to take Harry out of their care! He needed not only the protection of his relatives, but the assurance of a normal life – he wanted to keep him far away from all of the magical world until it was time for him to join in. He would have a life full of this and surely it wouldn't be easy for him. He never asked for it and had no choice. It seemed only fair to grant him his remaining years out of Hogwarts before confronting him with the world full of expectations and dangers he was destined to endure.

Deciding that he had to respond to this letter in person, he made preparations to leave for Little Whinging.

x x x

Harry had reached his destination and saw his favourite playground. Yet it felt different. Usually he had needed to come here secretly, sneaking like a thief in the night, fearing to be punished if he was caught (which was rather a matter of 'when' and not 'if'). Being seen by other people made him very nervous.

Closing his eyes for a few seconds, he just stood there in the sunlight, trying to feel the warmth flow through his body. Then, excited giggling drew his attention. Walking towards the playground he saw a little girl playing in the sandbox. Upon seeing him, she broke into a broad smile and waved at him.

 _This wasn't real, was it?_

Guardedly looking around, Harry halted for a few seconds, waiting to be pulled out of his dream violently, but nothing happened.

When he still didn't move, the girl's beckoning was accompanied by a deeper voice coming from somewhere behind the bushes, shielding the rest of the playground from view.

'Hey there! Wanna come and join in?' a boy's voice rang happily.

Still askance, Harry made a few tentative steps towards the little girl to gain a better sight of the scene. Next to her sat a boy, considerably older than her. He had taken off his shoes and was drawing little symbols into the sand with his toes.

Harry took another look around, as if to make sure that it was actually he being talked to. This caused the boy to laugh cheerfully.

'Yeah, I am talking to _you_! How about it? Join in?' He repeated.

Deciding that this wasn't a dream, _(and if it were, why not play along?)_ Harry moved up to the sandbox. Scanning the surroundings he discovered an elderly couple sitting on a park bench close by. A picnic basket was standing at their feet and seemed to have been forgotten over a captivating conversation between the two of them.

'Name's Samuel. But my friends call me Sam for short,' the boy grinned, outstretching his hand towards Harry.

Taking it carefully, he shook it.

'Name's Harry.' _But you can call me freak._

'Cool, nice to meet you Harry. This is Marie.' Nudging the little girl with his foot, she squeaked jovially and waved once more at the boy.

'Hi, Harry! See what I made!' She cried out in delight.

Proudly she presented her mornings work – a sandcastle which looked like it had suffered from several severe earthquakes already – and looked up at him expectantly.

'Err...wow. It's nice!' Harry grinned. 'Did you make it all by yourself?' He couldn't help but smile.

Exchanging grins with the other boy he watched the little girl nod vigorously, feeling intrigued by her utter genuine happiness.

 _This was cool. They weren't asking stupid questions (obviously his cover-up was great!) and they weren't bothered by him. Not afraid of him! They were just enjoying the day and he was allowed to be part of it._

Taking off his shoes and socks as well, Harry imitated the other boy and dug his feet into the warm sand, watching the little girl play.

Moments passed and obviously the two kids were just content sitting next to him, enjoying the sun. Deciding to dare a cautious approach he cleared his throat uneasily, causing the other boy to look at him.

'Err. Are you often here?' Harry tentatively asked.

'Yeah, actually we are. This is my sister's favourite playground. Marie loves it here! And well, I don't mind babysitting her. And them.' With a giggle he nodded towards the elderly couple, amused by the confusion dawning on Harry's face.

'Mr. and Mrs. Gregory. Dad drops us off at their place when he has to work. Usually our Mum is at home, but she has been very busy with the new baby lately. And it gets boring when all she does is feed her and change diapers, see? It gets boring to stay at their place all the time too, though (he nodded at the Gregorys), so we come here.'

'You live close by?' Harry asked, feeling uneasy.

'Yes,' the boy replied happily, not noticing the undertone. 'Just across the road. How about you?'

'Err.' Harry wasn't sure how much he could tell his new friend. Surely he seemed nice but he didn't want to get in trouble – for whatever reason. Yet he couldn't figure what harm would be done telling him about his home, as long as he made sure not to talk bad about it or the Dursleys for that matter.

'Privet Drive.' He revealed carefully.

'I don't know that street. At least it's not close by, or is it? Don't you have playgrounds around at your place?'

Instantly, Harry felt bad. Obviously he had intruded their space. He should have realised.

'Well. Sure. But...they aren't as nice... I reckon,' he tried.

Taking a look around at the rather scantily equipped play yard, he started to feel even more stupid, but was interrupted by Sam.

'Don't worry. I know what you mean. Usually they are cramped with kids fighting stupid fights over their toys and parents making sure that everybody learnt why their kid was so much better than the next door neighbour's. That's why we like it here. No one bothers us.'

There was a long silence and then both boys smiled at each other.

Time flew by and by the time the elderly couple had gotten up from the bench, the three kids were engaged in an eager fight between the kings (well two kings and one queen of course) of the three sand castles of their beloved playground, showplace of a battle never seen before.

Calling the kids to settle for supper, the on-going fight was abruptly decided when the queen's secretly allied giant (namely Marie's foot) stomped her archenemies' castles. The boys accredited her victory ungrudgingly.

'Sam, Marie, aren't you hungry yet? It has become quite late. And who's your little friend here?'

When they were looking at Harry, he felt immediately uneasy, not sure what was expected of him.

'That's Harry,' Marie piped up, 'he is our new friend!' With that she merrily flung her arms around him, beaming.

Taken aback, Harry tried to turn the hissing that had escaped his lips into a sound of surprise, rather than pain.

Regarding the couple, Harry decided that they hadn't noticed. They were grinning broadly at him.

'Well, hello then, Harry. Nice meeting you. Sam and Marie need to come home for supper now. Probably your parents will be worried as well if you do not show up soon, won't they?'

'No.'

 _Silence._

'I mean. Yeah. Of course, generally they would. Well, actually I live at my aunt and uncle's place. Err. They know I am here, you see?'

Clearing his throat, Harry gave it another try.

'Uhm, they are very busy today and told me I could stay out a little longer than usual.' That wasn't even exactly a lie. Just in time he refrained from adding 'I am supposed to come back home after supper' which surely would have added more questions as to why he was left out of meals.

'So, uhm,' he continued insecurely, 'I might just stay a little longer I think.'

'Can't he join us for supper?' Sam suddenly interrupted. 'He must be hungry by now and surely there's enough for him too, isn't there? Otherwise he'd be sitting here alone, all by himself.'

'Well.' Regarding Harry, Mrs. Gregory seemed uncertain.

 _Of course she hesitates,_ Harry thought. _Who would want him to be around anyway, let alone join them for supper?_

'Harry, won't your aunt and uncle be worried where you are?'

'NO!' The word had left his lips before he had noticed.

 _The Dursleys couldn't possibly learn about this! For once in his life he had found friends, surely they would take them away from him as soon as they knew. He'd just have to go back home and pretend that nothing had happened._

Regaining composure quickly, Harry tried again.

'I meant, no, they surely wouldn't mind if I stayed with you. They let me eat at friend's places _all_ the time.'

Ok. That was a lie. But what was the alternative? He couldn't go home yet and refusing to have supper with them in favour of sitting at the play yard, alone, doing nothing - that'd really look suspicious, wouldn't it? Apart from that, Harry had to admit that he actually liked the idea.

Looking at the boy once more who seemed clearly afraid to be left out (and also taking into account the fact that Marie had yet refused to unstick from Harry's side), Mrs. Gregory sighed.

'Well, I guess it will be alright then, but let's see that it won't be too long, otherwise they might send a search party after you! Come inside, then you can call and check with them. Wouldn't want to get you in trouble, right?'

Smiling encouragingly, she turned around, followed by her husband holding the picnic basket they had brought along which was instantly trailed by two hungry kids.

Harry followed them, feeling miserable.

Back at their place, Mrs. Gregory hinted at the telephone perched on the desk in the living room and smiled at Harry. 'Just make sure they are fine, I will be setting up supper outside.'

With that, she left for the kitchen.

Slowly, Harry picked up the receiver. He couldn't actually dial the number. What if anybody picked up before he had laid down the receiver again? Or even worse, if Aunt Petunia called back the unfamiliar number? But on the other hand, wouldn't the Gregorys notice if there wasn't a new number in the last calls list? Pretending to dial, Harry poked at the digits and then held the receiver to his ear, forcing a smile at Mr. Gregory who waved at him from the patio. Harry figured that upsetting his uncle and aunt was definitely worse than worrying this couple he might never see again, so he moved his lips a little, forced another smile, and placed the telephone back on its station.

'They are fine!' Harry exclaimed as he joined the rest in the garden. Looking around, he realised how hungry he was.

They had decided to set up some plates and place some salad and bread in the middle of the table, so everyone could feel free to help himself.

'That's wonderful, Harry,' Mrs. Gregory had said kindly and with a smile, Harry sat down next to Sam who had reserved a space for him and now jerked his head towards it.

Maybe a quarter of an hour had passed when the doorbell rang. Mrs. Gregory got up to answer it, merrily noticing that the little boy who had at first picked cautiously at the food was digging in heartily now.

Harry felt genuinely happy. This had been a great day. He had found friends to play with, been invited to a beautiful home and been given the feeling that he was ... _included_. They thought he was allowed to stay and even more so, Aunt Petunia didn't even expect him to be back before seven or so.

And his uncle hadn't been around. All day long!

He closed his eyes, capturing this very serene feeling and nearly choked on a piece of bread when he opened them again. Another guest had joined their supper.

'Hey, Dad,' Sam exclaimed, 'that's Harry. We saw him at the playground today and invited him over!'

Coughing, Harry looked at Dr. Connor who gave him an equally puzzled look.

'That's your Dad?'

x x x


	6. Talks

Welcome back, dear reader. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you have fun reading it. After Harry finally managed to spend a peaceful day out of his nasty uncle's reach and even made some new friends, things take yet another unexpected turn. It seems to be high time for some talks...

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 6 – Talks**

The peaceful ambience of Little Whinging during sunset was betraying the visitor's eye straying through the deserted streets where everything looked ordinary, normal, _out of question_. Occasional by-passers hadn't seen what had happened behind closed doors, shielded from curious views, only hours ago.

Petunia kept folding the little handkerchief for the twentieth time or so since she had grabbed hold of it. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but Albus politely tried not to notice. Upon asking her, she had teared up and told him that 'everything was just fine'.

He was sitting opposite to her and sipping on a cup of tea he had been offered (to his surprise). He had expected not to be let in or maybe dealt with in passing. But he had been wrong.

Clearly Petunia was making an effort, although his mere presence seemed to disturb her greatly. She had slammed the cup down on the coffee table in front of him so violently that tea had splashed everywhere. But Albus had taken the drink, heartily thanking Petunia, and settled himself down.

Obviously she wanted the matter – whatever the sudden reason therefore was – to be dealt with properly and also ultimately.

Watching her serenely for another minute, he waited for her to calm down. But as time elapsed and her anxiousness only seemed to increase, he came to the conclusion that she wouldn't settle unless he started the conversation himself.

'I received your letter, Petunia, and I must say it disquieted me a lot,' he said. 'I decided to come here right away to talk to you, my dear. What is troubling you, my child?'

Petunia looked at the tea cup in her own hands, giving it a light swirl to watch the liquid splash around. Surely she wasn't going to tell him what things had been like around #4 Privet Drive lately... what had happened just an hour ago, what had made her write that letter, utter desperation overcoming her pride in this brief moment of weakness.

All she had always had since the glamorous world of the wizards and witches had been shown to her (and then been withheld from her), had been an ordinary, manageable life. It hadn't been much, but she had not complained. She had married a man (who had at first been great, then alright, then better than nothing and then plainly there) and a son had been born to them. For a while, everything had been fine. There hadn't been the need to compare herself to her sister anymore. She had a life – a family – of her own now! She started liking it, forgetting about her childhood hurt, maintaining a rather distant relationship with her sister who gave birth to her own son just a month later. For the first time in her life, she was able to take pride in her own accomplishments.

Then it had happened. Her sister and her husband had been killed and Harry had been placed in their care by that very person who sat opposite to her now, apparently completely oblivious to the fact that he had destroyed her life by doing so!

Suddenly she had had to watch Dudley being in a latent competition with another boy – her sister's boy – and the whole story threatened to start anew.

Surely she wouldn't allow her son to make this same horrible experience she had made! He wouldn't experience what it was like to come second best by default, outshone in every possible and impossible way by another person's giftedness. She wouldn't let this happen to her little boy!

But the more she had tried to keep her son away from that experience, the more grief she had added to her nephew's already miserable life. Each time she had made him feel bad for the sake of making her own son feel better, she had felt guilty and inadequate. Ultimately, she had had to realise that this was a zero-sum game.

Yet, cruelty seemed to get easier over time. She had somehow grown accustomed to this cold attitude and it had become so familiar to her that she was even acting like it when there was no need. She had started to belittle Harry even when Dudley was not around, trying to drive him away from her – but each time she did, she felt that she had just added more hurt and sadness to this little boy who would simply refuse to hate her!

It hadn't been nice. Yet somehow everything had been in some kind of odd balance. Until the very moment when cruel reality had caught up with her this afternoon in form of her drunk husband swaying through the front door.

x x x

 _'Darling, I was worried sick, where have you been?'_ Petunia had asked, genuinely upset. She had wondered if Vernon had slept in the car and driven to work the next morning without coming home, but regarding his sloppy clothes, his messy hair, and worst – the obtrusive smell of alcohol surrounding him – she had figured that in fact he might not have done quite so. On second thought, the lack of his car also spoke against this theory.

Stumbling through the hallway, he had grabbed his wife and came very close to her face.

' _You know what the problem with lying is?'_ he had said. _'You have to be so damn clever to remember everything you said!'_

Confused, Petunia had tried to push him away from her, with no success.

' _I had a really good night yer...err...yesterday. I didn't have to think about the boy and noth...noth...nothingelse for that matter,'_ he had continued, occasionally stumbling across a difficult word.

' _But see, the cops wouldn't let me drive home once the pub closed. Don't even know where the HELL they came from. Told them to mind their own busi.. business and somehow I felt sick ANYway...yes...'_

Eyes out of focus, he had tried and failed to take in his surroundings. Obviously he was trying very hard to recollect last night's events.

' _Next thing I rer... remember is that I woke up in a sobering-up cell.'_

Petunia had clapped her hands to her mouth. _It was on a record! An official record! How was she supposed to cover THAT up now?_

' _But you see ... honey,'_ he had tried to make a discharging gesture and fell against the cupboard, causing its hinges to groan terribly, _'Well they woke me this morning because my cell kept ringing. Can you believe that? My boss called asking where I was. I was so tired and tie.. tried to remember what you told him. Told him that I was bringing the boy to the doctor's... yes...'_

With a grunt he had shifted himself forward as the cupboard's hinges seemed to squeeze his back uncomfortably, causing the wooden door to splinter a little. He had pointed his index finger at his wife while terribly swaying and had come very close to jabbing her right in the eye.

' _To the doctor's! GREAT idea Petunia! Not that there wasn't a record to be checked! Not at ALL! GREAT IDEA...'_

Talking more to the wall than to his upset wife by now, he kept losing his balance and had turned around by another 180 degrees. A hand clapped to his sweaty forehead as he scratched it absent-mindedly.

' _That was rea... rea... very annoying when he kept talking about 'having heard all of that yesterday already' and some stuff about a law suit. Really thought he had gone mad... think I might have told him so.'_

Petunia had frozen in the middle of the room now.

' _See, honey...'_ Vernon had said. _  
_

This endearment had sent shivers down her spine, coming from him in such a state.

 _'I think he started screaming then... I don't get why everybody is NAGGING ME ALL THE TIME NOW!'_

Petunia had tried to back away several feet but with unexpected agility, Vernon had grabbed her hand and pulled her close again.

' _NO! YOU will listen now!'_ he had said. _'YOU wanted to talk, HAVE your talk then and LISTEN DAMN IT!'_

Petunia's shoulder made an ugly snapping sound. A wave of pain washed over her.

 _What happened, then?'_ she asked with a trembling voice. _  
_

' _I hung up, but he jus... just kept calling. Told the cops that I wasn't going to answer and they should feel free to do so if they were bothered by it. Stupid filth. So next time it rang, they actually did. Damn, I swear I would have loved to see his esp.. exp... expression when they told him I was una...unavailaiable.. vailable and well... I don't remember what they told him exactly. They just said I needn't bother go to work this week anymore once they hung up.'_

After something that appeared to be a dramatic pause, Vernon added _'So I thought might just call it quits then.'_

Trying to break free from her husband's grip, Petunia realised that she had only redirected his attention to herself by doing so once he had finished his account. Eyes out of focus, he tried to look at his wife and let go of her with a disgusted grunt.

 _'WHY ARE YOU CRYING, DAMMIT?'_ he had snorted. _'What is it NOW? And WHY isn't the bloody boy around anyway?'_

Petunia's lips were a thin line. _  
_

' _WHERE IS HE?'_ Vernon had thundered. _  
_

' _I sent him to play outside,'_ Petunia said timidly.

' _You WHAT?'_ Vernon's eyes were bulging by now. _  
_

' _Vernon,'_ Petunia had gasped. _'We NEED TO TALK. I sent him away so we'd have some time to talk without anybody around who is disturbing us.'_

With a loud smashing sound, Vernon punched the cabinet once more, causing Petunia to jump. The abused hinges gave way to the weight of the left wing and it fell to the ground with a noisy shatter.

' _WHY THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK WE NEED TO TALK?'_ he screamed. _  
_

Petunia was crying freely now and gripped the wall she was leaning against forcefully.

' _These last days... well, weeks have been hard on us. On YOU, Vernon,'_ she had added carefully. _'Lot of things which shouldn't have happened... Of course this wasn't your fault!'_ (She had received a very terrifying look). _'But please,'_ she had said desperately, _'Please let me help you!'_

' _HELP ME? HELP? ME!?'_ Vernon had roared. ' _Why the HELL would you think you need to HELP me? Do I have a damn sig... sign pinned to my forehead 'BLOODY RESCUE ME?''_

And with that he had pushed her forcefully out of the way and staggered into the living room.

' _WHY ISN'T THE BOY HERE DAMMIT!_ he had yelled yet again, slamming his fist down on a near table. The china cat that had sat on it keeled over and hit the floor, shattering into countless pieces.

' _I just told you, I sent him away.'_ Petunia had said feebly. _'Don't you remember?'_ _  
_

' _You what?_

Looking at the shards on the floor for a while, Vernon had halted, apparently working hard to string together some thoughts. It was like watching an athlete trying to sprint through jelly. Finally, his face twisted uglily.

' _I think I might have lost myself my job because of the boy,'_ he had mused alarmingly quiet, his face still distorted.

Holding her shoulder, Petunia had backed away several feet towards the kitchen while her husband had made his way towards the hallway again.

' _THAT BLOODY BOY COST ME MY JOB!'_ he had ranted. _'He better not dare come back home or I'll make short shrift of him for GOOD!'_

He had turned around once more towards Petunia, swayed dangerously and added

' _But first I need to find my car!'_

Then he had left, slamming the door shut with a bang.

Only after several minutes Petunia had managed to stop crying and decided to put an end to this. _Dumbledore had to take Harry away with him. He just couldn't stay here. Of course here was the place where all charms had been set up for him. But what good were they against her husband?_

Still shaken badly she had written the letter and sent it away before she could change her mind. But she had set her heart on one thing – she would not humiliate herself and ask for help. She wouldn't explain. She would manage ... somehow. She just needed Harry to be taken away. Then she could take care of her little boy again and nothing else would matter.

x x x

Albus regarded Petunia who had been inspecting her spotless nails in silence for the past minutes.

'Petunia, my child, what is troubling you so gravely?'

She glared at him.

'Listen... you...' she said. 'This isn't about me. This is about the boy. He _can't_ stay here. We kept him long enough. You just need to find another suitable place as I am sure you have a lot of loyal friends who would be delighted to take him.'

 _Such coldness. Such hurt._

'My child...' Albus said, but was interrupted.

'STOP calling me this!' Petunia said.

'Petunia! We have discussed this before. At length!' Albus exclaimed. 'It is immensely important that Harry stayed here until his 17th birthday. You know why and you agreed!' After a small pause, he added, 'What has happened to change your mind?'

'Nothing,' she pressed.

'But why is it necessary to change the agreement then?'

Petunia's fingers turned white as her grip around her cup hardened.

'Whatever is troubling you, I beg you, talk to me, Petunia!' Albus said.

'That is none of your business,' she said, her voice cold and even. 'All I ask of you is to take Harry with you. We have taken care of him long enough by now!'

'May I speak to the boy then?' Albus asked.

'He isn't around.'

'I could wait for him.'

'NO.'

At this, Albus cast Petunia a stern look.

'Petunia, be reasonable!' he said. 'If I were to take the boy with me, I would need to speak to him first, don't you think so?'

With a loud thud, Petunia slammed her empty cup on to the desk, her lips still a thin line.

'He will not remember me,' Albus said. 'He was 15 months old when he saw me the last time. If he did so at all. I cannot just appear out of nothingness and take him with me. You wouldn't do that to him, now would you? Take him out of the familiar life and well-known surroundings to be replaced by something new, completely unknown, surrounded by strangers!'

'Don't you DARE manipulate me, Dumbledore!' Petunia hissed. Regarding the handle in her hand, she laid it next to the broken cup. 'It's not like you bothered to ask eight years ago whether you could do this to _our family_ now, did you?'

'But Harry _is_ your family,' Dumbledore pleaded, 'The only one he's got left!'

Petunia shook her head slowly.

'You just don't understand, do you?' she said. 'You will take the boy away from here and find another... suitable... place.'

'There isn't another suitable place, Petunia,' Dumbledore said. After a pause, he added 'I thought I had made it very clear to you that Harry needs to stay at a place he can call his home... the blood wards...'

Petunia still stared at him blankly.

'And if you can't explain to me what has happened,' Dumbledore said, 'I don't see that taking Harry away from this protection is possible at the moment.'

He looked at Petunia who only jerked her head towards the door. 'I have nothing else to say to you, then,' she hoarsly whispered.

x x x

Harry still struggled to catch his breath. He seemed to be in serious danger of suffocation.

Sam clapped him heartily on his back and Harry twisted his face once more in pain, but managed to swallow the lump of bread that had been stuck in his throat.

At this sight, Tom's puzzled expression turned into a genuine smile. He was surprised by the turn events had taken – to say the least. He hadn't expected to meet the boy so soon. _Hoped for it, yes. But not expected it._ He had wanted to figure out something, a way to approach him, talk to him. But obviously sometimes things just happened in life, and you best took them the way they came.

Glad for the chance he had been given, Tom was determined to break the awkward silence.

'I believe we have already met,' he said, 'Haven't we?'

Grinning broadly, he walked around the table, outstretching his hand towards the boy who seemed to be equally stunned by the developments.

Tentatively the boy took his hand and shook it carefully.

'Yes, Sir. Ehm,' he stuttered, 'Hi, Dr. Connor... sir.'

Tom had to gather all his self-restraint not to laugh at this endearing sight and schooled his features into into a friendly expression.

Still holding on to the boy's hand, he put his other hand on top of it and squeezed it lightly. He had meant to offer an affectionate gesture, yet the boy's expression was rather pained than comforted as he cringed under the handshake.

Carefully, Tom glanced at Harry's hand while stroking his thumb across it casually.

 _This hand was sprained to say the least!_ _ _It was impossible to recognise for an untrained eye, but he had seen this injury hundreds of times already._ It wasn't easy to detect without special equipment whether further damage was done. Yet, the wrist was definitely swollen. Was this a result of the alleged bike accident after all? _

Tom looked at the boy, his ruffled hair that hid half of his face, the long sweatshirt... Then he let go of Harry's hand carefully.

'You may call me Tom,' he said. 'I do not really fancy those titles. There is really no need for it, okay, Harry?'

The boy smiled absend-mindedly.

'Harry?' Tom asked. 'Are you alright?' He was afraid that he might have been too straightforward with the boy who's expression had gone blank for a moment.

Embarrassed by his daydreaming, Harry blushed violently.

'Oh, yeah,' Harry said quickly. 'Sorry, ehm... thanks. I'm great.. Tom?'

Smiling affirmatively, Tom stretched out his hand to tousle the boy's hair and managed to fake it into a rather sweeping gesture by which he combed his hair carelessly behind his ears when the boy had yet flinched again. As if nothing had happened, he addressed the rest of the lot sitting around the table.

'You wouldn't believe what an awful day this has been!' he said. 'I'm so glad I'm here now.' Looking at his children, he said, 'Tell me kids, what have you been doing with your new friend all day?'

Having said that he sat back in one of the chairs next to Mrs. Gregory who had already placed a small salad bowl in front of him. Tom took a piece of bread from the middle of the table and leaned back, armed for the next minutes of eager listening.

Marie was excitedly telling him how she had brilliantly fought the castle war against Harry and Sam and been victorious in the end _(as usual)_. Now and then her brother added some details to the merry account. Harry hadn't said a thing yet.

Glancing at the boy from time to time, Tom tried to make sense of his expression.

'Harry,' he said, 'Does your Aunt know that you are here?'

'Err... you see,' Harry started, but Mr. Gregory waved his hand at Tom.

'Sure she does!' he said. 'He called first thing when he came back with us, right?' He cast Harry a jovial smile while his wife nodded supportively.

'Em.. yes,' Harry said, 'Right.' He tried to make his voice sound very even, but didn't dare look at Tom.

'Ah,' Tom replied, 'I see.'

Looking across the table, Tom realised that Harry had finished his supper in contrast to his kid's who had been busy telling him about their day.

'Tell you what,' he said, looking at the boy who had sunk into his chair by now. 'I'll give you a lift. By now it really is quite late, I don't want you to walk all the way back home by yourself at such a time.'

Harry's heart felt like it had just plummeted into his stomach. _If Tom drove him back home, Aunt Petunia would notice. And of course she would recognise him to be their new doctor! How could she forget this man? She was bound to think that Harry had given away some detail – any detail – about their family life which wasn't supposed to be spread. Maybe Uncle Vernon was already at home by now, too. They would be really upset, fearing for their façade to shatter. He hadn't said a single bad thing but who would believe him anyway? Surely they would think he had been spreading lies and never let him go outside again if his new doctor brought him home. They would never believe that he met him by chance!_

 _Weird coincidence though,_ Harry thought, regarding the man standing in front of him and yet, wow, he looked different when not at work!

He still wore loosely fitting jeans and a rather normal black slim fit shirt. Around his neck hung a necklace with a bone or something that looked like a big animal's tooth, cool, but freaky though. It seemed to be the counterpart to his earring and it was obvious why he had to take if off while working. Apart from that, he looked rather unchanged, his brown longish hair carelessly combed behind his ears with his fingers.

 _Maybe he could convince Tom to drop him off at the end of the right street and say goodbye so he'd be able to walk back home the last bit. He had to try,_ Harry thought. Then he realised that everybody was looking at him.

'Err... it's okay, I guess,' he stuttered. 'I mean... err. Thanks. You needn't bother though, it's too much trouble.'

Sympathetically smiling at the boy, Tom shook his head, grabbed another piece of bread and stood up. He wanted to talk to the boy alone. Now. This wouldn't work if he took his kids along.

'Don't you worry about this,' he said. 'It's no trouble at all.' Looking at Mr. and Mrs. Gregory he added, 'John? Elisabeth?'

The elderly couple just nodded kindly. It was Sam who intervened.

'No, Dad!' he exclaimed. 'I wanna come, too!'

'Not tonight, Sam,' Tom said sternly. 'I want you and your sister to finish your supper, and I don't want you to rush.'

'But I am finished!' Sam exclaimed. Then his gaze wandered from his dad to the giant piece of bread he was still holding in his left hand. He put it on his plate with a thud.

Tom felt sorry for his son. Yet this wasn't the time for discussions. He needed to talk to the boy. Alone. Walking towards Sam, he lifted his chin with his left hand. Their gazes would have met, had his son not continued to stare at this plate stubbornly.

'Sam, look at me,' Tom ordered.

Harry watched the scene without blinking.

Slowly, Sam's eyes wandered their way up until he met his dad's gaze.

'Listen, Samuel,' he said. 'I am very sorry that you are disappointed, but I want to bring Harry back home, now. It is getting quite late. Mr. and Mrs. Gregory can walk you home once you have finished your supper. I am sure Mum is home by now. Marie will be tired.'

'Not tired!' the little girl piped up jovially.

Tom couldn't help to suppress a grin.

'You too, now?' he said. Poking his little girl with his index finger, she started to giggle and flail her arms around, causing her supper to fly everywhere. Even Harry had to laugh at this scene.

Tousling his son's hair once more with his hand, Tom turned around to the boy he had heard laughing for the first time.

'Well, Harry,' he said. 'We better get going then!' He smiled encouragingly at the child, but his kind gesture wasn't returned. The boy looked to be on the verge of tears.

x x x

They had been driving for a couple of minutes already and it wouldn't take very long until they reached #4 Privet Drive. This might take twenty or thirty minutes when walking, but going by car surely this wasn't a long way.

 _Not exactly much time to talk._

'So, Harry,' Tom said. 'You met my kids. I am glad you get along.'

'Yeah,' Harry said.

'Would you like to come back?'

'What?'

'I just thought that, after all it's still holidays and you know, maybe you'd like to visit us at our place sometime.' Tom raised his hand in an inviting gesture. 'I am sure Sam would be delighted to play with you again. And Marie seems to adore you.'

'That'd... that'd be great,' Harry said slowly. 'I think I need to check with my aunt first, though.' Then he looked at his knees again.

 _The boy really knew how to keep a conversation going..._

Privet Drive was coming closer and this wasn't really working out. The tension in the car was increasing, it almost felt like it was tangible. As Tom was starting to feel very desperate for some other approach, he was suddenly interrupted by the little boy's hesitant voice.

'Tom?'

'Yes, Harry?'

The boy paused for a second. Then he spoke again. _  
_

'I think you can let me out here,' he said casually. 'I can walk the last bit. It's really alright and you don't have to bother.'

'Are you joking?' Tom said. 'I am not bothered at all! Why would you think that?' Smiling at the boy, he added 'I want to make sure you arrive home safely and I do so gladly.'

Harry continued to stare at the windscreen. Tom thought he looked ready to faint anytime soon.

Sighing, he pulled over his car and came to a halt an intersection away from Privet Drive. He unfastened his seatbelt and turned to face the kid who had teared up by now.

'You weren't allowed to stay, were you?'

The boy just shook his head miserably, tears forcefully clinging to his eyelashes as he refused to look up.

'What will happen when I take you back home?' Tom asked.

 _They will know!  
_

Harry swallowed hard. _  
_

'Harry,' Tom said again, but the boy couldn't hold back his emotions any longer and started sobbing heartwrenchingly, leaning feebly against the seatbelt. Ignoring the flinching, Tom put his hand on top of the boys head and stroked his hair gently.

'Maybe I can talk to your Aunt and explain...'

'NO!' Harry hadn't meant to scream, but hadn't been able to hold back. Unfastening his seatbelt too, he tried to look less miserable when facing Tom.

'Please,' he begged, 'don't talk to her. She'd never have to know!'

 _This was heart-breaking._

'Harry, what happened to your hand?' Tom asked.

The boy looked at his knees again, his hair falling into his eyes, shielding them from view.

'I fell.' _That wasn't even a lie._

'Why did you fall?' Tom asked.

Harry choked back several violent sobs and then barely whispered

'Because I am clumsy. It's my own fault. It happens all the time.'

Traiterous tears started running down Harry's cheeks freely. Brushing them away angrily with his palms, he regarded his left hand which was smeared with make-up now. Realisation dawning on his face, he clapped his hand to his cheek again and turned away from Tom.

Harry tried to hold on to his cheek forcefully, but felt himself unable to do so when a gentle hand reached for his own and pulled it away slowly. Holding Harry's chin with his other hand, Tom tilted Harry's head lightly to the side and looked at the bruises now visible on the boy's cheekbone. With his thumb, he stroked away a strand of hair.

'Harry,' he said very slowly, 'I want to help you.' He made an effort to keep his voice even.

When the boy still didn't react, he resumed to stroke the boy's unhurt cheek gently. Suddenly, a pair of arms were flung around his waist. Sobbing violently, the boy leaned his face against Tom's chest and held on to his shirt forcefully. Putting his arms carefully around the child, he continued to stroke his hair, again and again.

'It'll be alright,' Tom said in a desperate attempt to calm the child. 'We'll figure it out!'

'No, it won't be!' Harry cried out.

'Why is that?' Tom asked.

'Because now you know!' Harry cried. 'You weren't supposed to know! No one was supposed to know!' The words were interrupted by violent sobs.

'Shhh, it's alright Harry,' Tom said once more, holding tightly on to the child that was crying freely now. Tom tried hard to breathe evenly.

 _How could one possibly do this to the own child?_

Surely he had seen several abused kids at work. Each time it was the same story. The same fearful faces upon being discovered, exposed. Babbled explanations trying to explain clearly non-accidental injuries.

'Harry,' he said gently. 'No one will hurt you anymore. I promise. You have to believe me! But you have to talk to me!'

Feeling the light shake of the boy's head, his stomach twisted even more.

'You can't talk to them, please!' Harry cried again. 'I'll just go back!'

'Harry,' Tom sighed, 'I can't let you go back just like this. You must trust me on this. This isn't your fault...'

'Yes, it is!' Harry said. 'I deserve it! I make them angry all the time. It's not their fault, I make them do it!'

Gently withdrawing the boy's face from his chest, Tom cupped Harry's cheeks gently with his hands. Then he looked at the boy, waiting for him to lift his gaze. When nothing happened, Tom said

'Harry, look at me.'

Fearfully the boy looked up. Confusion and hurt, anger and pain were evident on his face, in his heart.

'This is not your fault, Harry,' Tom said. 'And this is not your responsibility. You never should have been put in such a situation. I promise you I won't let you get hurt again. Let me sort this out. Just trust me. It will be okay. Okay?'

Again the boy shook his head.

Carefully stroking the Harry's cheek with his hand once more, Tom sighed once more, fastened his seatbelt again and with a nod of his head asked the boy to do the same. Looking into the child's teary eyes, desperate and fearful, he breathed slowly and deliberately.

'Let's sort this out then.'

x x x


	7. Coming Home

Hi and welcome back. As usual, thanks for your brilliant reviews. I appreciate your feedback a lot and I hope that you are enjoying the story so far! After Dr. Connor found out about poor little Harry's secret, some relatives have a serious confrontation coming up. But is Harry really coming home? Let's see how the story continues...

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 7 - Coming Home**

Harry was rigid with fear.

 _How could Tom do this to him? Surely Aunt Petunia would make up a great story to explain everything. She always did. Teachers in school fell for it, neighbours, everyone! He'd be the liar. It'd be his fault. And then Tom would leave, and he would be in trouble._

When Harry still didn't move, Tom leaned forward to fasten the boy's seatbelt again, carefully folding it across his chest. After it had clicked shut, Tom stroked Harry's cheek with the back of his hand once more lightly, brushed away some shed tears with his thumb and started the engine again.

Grabbing the fabric of the seatbelt forcefully, Harry's knuckles went white with pressure. He leaned his chin against his chest and tried to push himself back into his seat. His back hurt badly by doing so, but he didn't care. He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes, trying to shut out the world around him for a second.

Merely a few moments had passed when the car was pulled over again and they came to a halt, this time in front of #4 Privet Drive. It was getting dark by now and there was light coming from inside the house.

For a moment, Tom had hoped to find the house deserted. Any reason to just turn around and take the boy back home with him would have been fine. But obviously somebody was at home. And this somebody was in need of some serious talk!

He took another deep breath to calm down. This was not going to be easy.

 _Such talks never were._

There was no way he would let this child walk back into the house, pretend that nothing had happened and just stand by and watch for what would happen next. He would need to have a thorough look at the boy anyway, document his injuries, make sure they were taken care of, not to speak of the legal consequences for whomever had been responsible for this.

Often there were many injuries in different stages of healing. Maybe scars or other signs of prior abuse which had to be recorded, too. Yet he knew that often the physical pain was not the worst. The wounds that could not be seen outwardly were the ones most difficult to heal – and surely the boy would require professional help to work through these issues.

Compassionately he looked at the little child who still sat in his seat absent-mindedly, clinging on to his seatbelt for dear life.

'Harry?'

Nothing happened.

'Boy, look at me.'

Somehow this address seemed to reach the distant mind of the child like some sort of trigger. Instantly he let go of his seatbelt and stared at Tom blankly.

'You need to listen to me now,' Tom said carefully. 'I will go inside and talk to your uncle and aunt. I want you to stay here and wait for me. I promise I will be back as soon as possible. Okay?'

The boy's chest rose and fell quickly as he breathed heavily.

Tom looked into the teary eyes that were begging him not to go and do what he had planned, not to leave him alone. _Not to give away his secret._ But there was no other way to end this! Harry seemed close to having a panic attack.

Holding the boy's back with his one hand and resting the other one on top of his violently moving chest, Tom put on his most reassuring look.

'Shhh... Everything will be alright,' Tom said. 'Take deep breaths. In and out. Concentrate, Harry. In and out. That's right. You are doing fine. I'll come back soon. There's nothing you need to be scared of. You are safe now. You just wait here and I take care of this now.'

Once Tom was certain that the boy wouldn't suffer from an attack or faint due to his prior hyperventilation, he got out of the car and halted. He didn't want the boy to be disturbed by what was coming. Leaning his upper body inside once more he looked Harry right in the eye and sternly said

'Stay. In. The. Car!'

Apparently, commands worked well with the boy who nodded mechanically.

Tom closed the door determinedly. Steeling his mind, he took another deep breath as he walked up the driveway to the house.

x x x

If it hadn't been for the light inside, Tom would have thought no one was at home. He had rung the bell for three times now and still nothing had happened. Then he had heard a shuffling noises behind the door, but apart from that, nothing moved.

'Mrs. Dursley? This is Dr. Connor. I need to talk to you and your husband.'

The shuffling noise stopped.

'I'm not going anywhere. You might as well open the door.'

Another few awkward moments passed, then the door was opened with a jerk.

Tom looked into the red-rimmed eyes of the tall woman standing opposite him now. He found nothing in her that resembled the person that had been sitting in his surgery a few days ago, self-confident, with a put-on smile firmly in place.

'I thought you were my husband who forgot his keys and... well...' Petunia's voice trailed off when she realised who she was talking to.

Clapping a hand to her mouth she looked clearly embarrassed, caught off guard.

This moment lasted only briefly though. Petunia glared at him.

'How may I help you?' she asked, scrutinizing her unexpected visitor without any effort to hide it.

'I believe you are missing something,' Tom said.

'Excuse me?'

'I believe,' Tom repeated, 'your nephew hasn't returned home yet and it is quite late now. Weren't you wondering where your 9-year-old boy was at such a time at night?'

Realisation started to dawn on Petunia's face. Before she could say or ask anything, Tom continued.

'I believe we need to talk, and I think we better go inside unless you want the neighbours to be part of this conversation which will surely be... interesting.'

Obviously his harsh approach had not failed to take its desired effect, for the woman had started to look around, anxiously checking if anyone might have noticed their dialogue. After a few seconds, Petunia came to the conclusion that all neighbours were minding their own business.

'Very well,' she spat, her voice venomous. Turning around, she gestured for him to come in.

Following her into the living room, Tom couldn't help but notice the splintered cupboard door which didn't fit into the completely sterile ambience at all. Everything was spotless and tidy and there it leaned against a wall, broken, _out of place._

'Sit down, then.' Petunia barely whispered, not trusting her voice as she offered the seat a second time this day to yet another very unwelcome visitor.

She had been upset all day. Her shoulder hurt badly and she felt like a mess of emotions.

At first she had been afraid. Of her husband. Of anything he might do to the boy. Of the headmaster who would surely force her to tell him what he wanted to know any moment. But as time passed, Petunia realised that he wouldn't pressured her to say anything. Yet he had also refused to take the boy with him. And she had been desperate for something to do!

But as time had passed and neither her husband, nor the boy, nor the headmaster were around anymore, she had been able to put some of that self-consciousness aside and resume with her daily work.

Now and then she had glanced at her watch. _When would Vernon be back? Hopefully the boy wouldn't be stupid enough to return before they had sorted this._

The more time passed, the less she was looking forward to seeing her husband again. She wondered if he could be reasoned with this time. Hopefully he would have calmed down by that time.

'Mrs. Dursley?' Tom interrupted the silence.

Being jerked out of her daydreaming by her visitor, she frowned at him.

'What do you want.' It wasn't really a question.

'Doesn't it make you wonder that your nephew hasn't come home yet?' Tom asked.

'Well,' Petunia shifted a little in her chair. 'Usually he would be home by this time, but you see, I had a lot on my mind today and told him that I would make an exception. It's holidays after all.'

Studying the red-rimmed eyes of the woman, Tom wondered what had been on her mind all day.

'I see,' he said. 'But when exactly did you expect him to be back?'

'Well. Any time now, actually.'

Still Petunia was unsure where this was supposed to be going. She looked the doctor right in the face, but couldn't make out his expression. Finally, her gaze dropped to her hands.

'So,' she said slowly, 'how does this concern you? Do you know where Harry is?'

'Actually, I do,' Tom said. 'My kids and he met on the playground today, quite accidentally. I had a chance to talk to him.'

At this, Petunia's eyes darted up to the doctor's.

'You talked to him?'

'Yes.'

' _What_ did he tell you?'

'What do you _think_ he told me?'

Petunia's knuckles went white when she grabbed hold of her chair. Surely she was not going to play this game!

'Listen,' she spat, unable to withhold her emotions. 'He is a kid! He has a wild imagination! Whatever he said, probably it was exaggerated.'

'You are not answering my question.'

Petunia breathed heavily.

 _Why was everybody pressuring her to tell? She hadn't spent years and years covering up her husband's flaws to blow the cover in a single afternoon now!_

'I believe,' Petunia said slowly, 'I let you into my house because _you_ wanted to talk to _me_! Talk then!' And with that she pursed her lips together, determined not to let another word slip.

 _Fine,_ Tom thought _. Have it your way then._

'Mrs. Dursley,' Tom said professionally, 'your nephew shows clear signs of abuse. Could you explain this?'

For a moment, Petunia didn't react. Then she asked _  
_

'What signs of abuse?'

'He has a sprained wrist.'

Petunia shook her head.

'I told you, he had this bike accident.'

'You never went to the hospital. I checked.'

'We went to a different one!' Petunia said hotly. Her face had adapted a pink shade by now.

'He also has a bruised cheek,' Tom said.

'That happened when he fell down!'

'Twice?'

When Petunia didn't answer, Tom leaned forward. 'Does he even have a bike?'

'Of course he has!'

'Why was there the need to cover up the bruise with make-up?'

'Because... because he was ashamed of it. He didn't want anybody to see that he was clumsy and fell down.'

At this, Petunia realised that the doctor had balled his hands into fists.

'Why was he afraid to come back home then if there was nothing he had to fear?' Tom pressed.

Petunia wrung her fingers. _This wasn't fair._ Her mind was racing but somehow, today the right words wouldn't come up.

'Well, you see,' she began. 'My husband... _' No, this wasn't good either._ 'Actually... well..'

Unconsciously she had started rubbing her shoulder. She felt so vulnerable, so exposed.

For a while, Tom studied the woman opposite him carefully.

'Did he hit you, too?'

 _Silence._

'Please, talk to me!' Tom urged.

Petunia stared at him. Attempting to find the right words, she clenched her fists around the armrest of the couch.

'How could you think of such a... of course he doesn't!' She was breathing heavily by now. 'He would never do something like that!'

'What happened to your shoulder?'

'Nothing.'

'Let me have a look at it. Maybe it is dislocated.'

Petunia's eyes were swimming with tears, but clearly refused to let these emotions overrule her pride.

'Listen,' she said harshly, 'we don't need your help. Everything is fine!'

'Yes, I can see that!' Tom said before he could stop himself. 'For crying out loud, he is a child! He needs your protection! How could you possibly let this happen to him? He is your nephew!'

 _The boy was nine years old for goodness' sake!_

Two tears ran down Petunia's cheeks. She turned her head towards the clock on the wall next to her and wiped them away quickly, as if they burnt her skin. Tom took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat, running his hands through his hair.

'Please,' he urged with as much patience as he could muster. 'Harry needs help. _You_ need help!'

When Petunia silently shook her head, he added, 'Please. I can tell that you are hurt.'

'Listen,' Petunia was barely whispering. 'I didn't ask for this. This is not my fault.'

Again, she turned her head away. This wasn't working out the way Tom had hoped it would at all. They were circling the problem, but obviously it wasn't making any difference at all. This woman was definitely hurt and apparently very scared.

 _And why did this woman keep glancing at her watch!_

'When is your husband going to be back?' Tom asked.

Petunia looked up. 'I don't know.'

'I need to talk to him.'

'NO!' At this, Petunia had jumped to her feet.

'Mrs. Dursley!' Tom exclaimed, standing up as well. 'I want to help you. I understand that you are afraid. But there are other ways than this here. I can help you!'

'We don't need your help.'

'This won't get better!' Tom pointed his hand towards the splintered cupboard. 'Do you really think that your husband will change? It never gets better!'

'STOP THIS!' Petunia cried. 'You are wrong!'

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tom felt weariness creeping up on him. _Didn't this woman realise that she wasn't fooling him?  
_

He was just about to take another step, tell her that he would inform the authorities (or anybody for that matter to get the woman talking!) when agitated voices from outside broke the silence. Then a bloodcurdling scream resounded from the driveway, followed by a deadly silence.

x x x

'Don't you think for one second that you will get away with this!' Vernon thundered.

With a powerful jerk, he had yanked open the door of the unfamiliar car that stood in his driveway, slammed away the seatbelt and grabbed Harry by his upper arm, forcing him out of the car. Harry struggled to find a balance as his feet were hardly touching the ground.

 _Where had Uncle Vernon come from? All of the sudden? He had been so lost in thought and hadn't seen him coming._

'Whose car is this?'

Harry felt unable to answer.

'I believe I asked you a question!' Vernon hissed coldly, sending shivers down Harry's spine.

 _How could he possibly tell without making it worse? There wasn't anything he could say to make it right now._

When the boy didn't answer, Vernon started shaking him by the shoulders, as if the right answer would come out if he just shook him hard enough.

'Uncle Vernon, please!' Harry was desperate, 'Please, stop!'

 _Why wasn't Tom here? He had promised nothing would happen and now he wasn't here! He had lied to him! Just like everybody else – and pretended to care first._ Harry couldn't help but realise how stupid he had been to fall for that again. _  
_

'WHO BROUGHT YOU HERE? WHAT LIES HAVE YOU BEEN TELLING?' Vernon thundered.

He was unable to hold back his rage any longer that had accumulated over the day. He had talked to his boss – former boss that was now. And he had not managed to get his car back as it had been impounded and not been returned to him while he was still drunk. He hadn't seen the boy – cause of all of his trouble – all day. And now upon coming home, he just sat here, escorted home by some stranger who had obviously been fed lies! Why else would someone – anyone – drive the boy home?

When Harry still didn't answer, something in Vernon snapped.

'TALK to me you FREAK!' he shouted. Grabbing the boy by the hair, he slammed his head against the door of the car again which exhibited an ugly dent now.

Harry screamed horribly and suddenly a huge flash of light came from his chest. A powerful wave of energy radiated off of his body, dashing his uncle a couple of feet away where he noisily hit the ground and fell unconscious.

He thought he saw the front door of the house being yanked open and two people running towards him, but he could only make out blurred schemes. Something wet was running down his temple.

Shutting his eyes forcefully and clutching his hands to his head, Harry screamed at the top of his lungs until he had no breath left. Oblivious to everything going on around him, he felt the force that had been building up in him erupt into another mighty wave of energy and then all was silent.

x x x

When another moment had passed and nothing had happened, Harry opened his eyes again, daring to take a peak as he withdrew his hands. He wasn't hurting anymore. Carefully touching his head, he felt nothing out of the ordinary except for a strand of hair which refused to stop falling into his face.

Taking a look around, he immediately made out the silvery walls surrounding him. All was good. He was safe now. Tentatively stretching his hand out towards the barrier he felt the warmth increase. This was so nice. This was all he needed right now.

He was sitting in the middle of his sphere, knees drawn up to his chest and his protective barriers dependably closing him in. There was nothing else: just him and the walls. He took another look around and as he continued to look through the silvery barrier, he thought that he could make out silhouettes of several people hurrying around him. Yet they couldn't touch him. They couldn't pass.

Harry smiled.

As the warmth increased, he felt his body relax. He closed his eyes again. Harry was tired... so tired. Somewhere distant he heard a voice that kept calling something. It was a woman's voice, gentle and tranquilizing. He couldn't hear what she was saying, so he tried to lower his guard for a brief moment. As he did, the voice became more audible, yet he couldn't understand what she was saying.

Trying to fully relax, Harry gathered all his courage and let the barriers drop a little further. This time he heard the voice clearly in his head.

 _Sweetie, it's okay. Let go. Let him help you. It's alright. You are safe now._

That voice was so... he couldn't put a finger to it, but Harry was desperate to remember its sound. Keeping his eyes closed, he suddenly felt another wave of energy leave his body, leaving him tired and exhausted. The warmth faded as he fell out of his realm once more.

x x x

Petunia screeched on top of her lungs when she saw her husband lying unconscious on the ground. Hurrying over to him, she was oblivious to what else was happening.

Tom was shaken by the situation that presented itself to him. They had heard the scream and in an instant, he had jumped off his seat and hastened towards the door, closely trailed by Petunia. Jerking it open he had seen a very fat man being blown backwards as if he was hit by a shockwave. Only when the light had faded could he see Harry who had slumped down next to his car. He was bleeding from a head wound, held his hands to his head and screamed as hard as he could.

Running towards Harry, Tom wanted to reach out for the kid but felt pushed back by some kind of invisible barrier.

 _What the hell was this?_

Again he tried to touch Harry, but again he felt a force field push him back once he came closer than several feet to the child.

Tom was desperate to help him. At the same time, he couldn't believe what had just happened. He had never seen such a force field before. And certainly not one radiating off of a small child's chest. Again and again he tried to get hold of the kid, but felt pushed back.

 _I only want to help you!_ he thought. _Please! Let me help you!_

Again and again he stretched out his hands and slowly, very slowly he felt the energy decrease which was pushing him back. Harry still had his eyes closed, mumbling inaudible words. His body was rigid and blood from his head wound was soaking his shirt.

Then, Tom felt the barrier vanish. Immediately the boy's body relaxed and he fell. Hasting forward he managed to grab Harry's shoulders to keep him from hitting his head on the ground.

 _I shouldn't have left him alone in the car!_ Tom berated himself.

Holding the unconscious boy in his arms, he felt how his own shirt was slowly soaked with the blood dripping from the child's head wound. He glanced around for a second, then he lay Harry to the ground carefully and tore a sleeve from his shirt, wrapping the elastic fabric around the boy's head to halt the bleeding.

 _We need an ambulance now!_ Tom thought, but then he hesitated. _What had happened with that boy? What was this weird power he had displayed? How could he possibly have sent his uncle (Tom figured that assumedly, that person was Harry's uncle) flying across the lawn for a couple of feet, regarding his small size and his uncle's mass. The balance of forces was just so off... definitely, something strange had happened._

Looking down at Harry, Tom realised that he had to make a decision quickly. He picked up the boy and held him close to his chest, arms wrapped around his fragile body. Looking towards Petunia he saw that her husband had already regained consciousness. And apart from being obviously badly shaken, he displayed no visible injuries. His face had adapted a nasty shade of purple and he tried to scramble to his feet, ready to charge any second.

In desperation, Petunia grabbed his arm, forcing him back down onto the lawn.

'THIS FREAK HAS DONE IT NOW, THIS WAS ONCE TOO OFTEN!' Vernon hollered. 'LET GO OF ME! I'LL KILL HIM!'

With tears running down her cheeks, Petunia looked at Tom.

'Please!' she begged. 'You have to take him away _now_!'

Feeling torn between leaving the woman with her husband or keeping the kid in reach of that man, Tom decided that the need to take care of the boy's injuries was more pressing. He yanked open the co-driver's door and placed Harry inside once more, fastened his seatbelt and slammed the door shut.

Then he hastened around the car and got in, started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, regarding the bizarre scene one last brief moment before speeding away. The man had tried to run after him for a couple of seconds, having shaken off his wife who sat desperately sobbing on the ground now.

 _Hopefully she will be alright,_ Tom thought. He would have to check on her. But not now.

 _Had the man just screamed that – once too often – it had happened before? What did they know about the kid and about his abilities? What did they mean?_

Ravaging his mind, Tom weighed up his options. He could bring the boy into the emergency care of his former hospital and have him thoroughly checked and taken care of. But due to his head injury, they would x-ray him and possibly perform a CAT scan. What if anything that had just happened with the boy, this strange force field, was detected by the instruments? He had never seen anything like this before in his entire life and surely the boy would find himself subjected to endless tests, screenings and possibly never be left alone anymore once his ability – or whatever it was – was discovered.

Although feeling much shaken by the skill the boy had displayed, he decided to give it a chance and find out about this when there was time – not now – not in a way that drew attention to the boy and maybe alerted officials. He needed to keep them out of this and take matters into his own hands!

For a moment, Tom considered driving back home. Yet he had to admit that bringing a boy with uncontrolled powers to his own home in which his wife and three children were waiting was not really the best idea, either.

Settling for the next best option, Tom jerked his car around at the upcoming intersection. Minutes that seemed like hours had passed when he finally pulled into the driveway of his surgery. He got out of the car and carefully carried the boy inside, placing him on a strecher in one of his treatment rooms. Locking the front door again, Tom made sure that all blinds were closed. Then he took a deep breath. Coming here had been a good choice. Here he had all the equipment he really needed to take care of the kid's injuries now!

After checking the boy's vital signs, he removed the makeshift head bandage and cleaned the wound with a sterile cloth. It had ceased bleeding. Dabbing at it with the cloth, he felt immensely relieved, seeing that most of the blood that had spluttered across the boy's face came off. The actual wound seemed to be a small cut above his left temple that wouldn't require more than four stiches.

Checking the boy's pupils with a small lamp, he found them to be of the same size and reacting just like they should, ruling out internal bleeding or more severe brain injuries at this stage. _Probably a concussion,_ Tom thought. He would have to keep an eye on the symptoms though. Feeling guilty that he didn't take him to the hospital right away, Tom was just about to change his mind when the boy stirred a little and lifted his hands, trying to cover his face.

'Harry, can you hear me?'

'Uuuuh,' Harry groaned in pain.

'Harry, look at me.'

Slowly the boy opened his eyes and looked at Tom for a second, then his face twisted. He managed to force out a _'sick'_ as he started rolling his eyes. Grabbing a kidney dish close by, Tom quickly shoved it in front of Harry.

Once the boy looked up again, Tom dabbed his face with a paper towel. Then he repeated

'Harry, can you see me?'

 _Nod._

'How many fingers am I holding up with my left hand?'

'Six?'

Tom sighed.

'How do you feel?'

'Sick.. and dizzy. My head is hurting so bad.'

Carefully, Tom supported Harry's upper body and pushed him gently back down to the strecher.

'Don't move and relax. I will give you something to make it better. Don't close your eyes if you start to feel sick again.'

Extracting an injection from one of his medicine cabinets, he gave the boy a shot to lessen the pain and stabilize him. Only a few moments passed before it unfolded the desired effect, clearly relaxing the boy. Quickly, Tom grabbed another injection for local anaesthesia and applied it around the head wound.

Stiching the boy up hadn't taken more than a couple of minutes. Once he was done and had put his instruments away again, Tom sat down next to the kid, still lying on the stretcher, tranquilised by the shots he had been given.

He looked at the multiple bruises on the boy's face and carefully touched his cheeks with his fingers, anger welling up once more in his chest. He felt tears sting his eyes and rubbed them away with his thumbs, running his fingers through his hair. With a deep sigh he let go and grabbed Harry's unharmed hand.

'Harry, how do you feel now?'

'So tired,' he mumbled.

'Are you still feeling sick?'

'A little.'

'Does it hurt anywhere else?'

'Always does... sooo tired, lemme sleep, pleaaaaase.'

The boy hadn't even opened his eyes again and seemed to be dozing off on the medication again.

With a sigh, Tom stood up and regarded the boy's blood-soaked shirt. Deciding that one of his work shirts, though way too huge for the little boy, was better than what he wore at present, Tom made sure that his patient wouldn't fall off the stretcher and left the examination room. Moments later he came back with a clean shirt and some swabs in one hand and a water bowl in the other one.

Checking that the he was only dozing and not unconscious, he said

'I am going to take your shirt off, Harry. Let's get you cleaned up!'

With that, he lifted the boy's chest up, pulled his shirt over his head and threw it into a wastebin underneath the stretcher. Then he dampened the swabs and started to remove all traces of blood from the boy's chest. Carefully rolling Harry over to his side, he had wanted to wash the last blood smears off the child's body when a deep sigh escaped Tom's mouth.

The child's back was littered with bruises and welts which looked like that bastard had taken his anger out on the child with a belt.

Barely able to control his anger, he spotted more fingerprint-shaped bruises on Harry's upper arm.

As Tom tried to pull the dry and clean shirt over Harry's head, he stirred a little, shielding his head with his arms. With eyes still closed he started to mumble again.

'No.. hoo.. nommy fault.. please don't strangleme. .no. Wasn't bad... don't.. pleeease.'

Tom pulled the shirt down and let go of the boy again immediately. Instantly, the child relaxed and slowly started to stroke the warm and dry shirt with his hands carefully before rolling onto his side. Drawing up his knees to his chest and huddling his head against his hands, he muttered another few incomprehensible words before he finally fell asleep.

Looking at the boy for a brief moment, Tom decided to let him rest, fetched a blanket from the next room and covered the child with it, carefully tucking it in.

Drawing up a chair next to the strecher, Tom sank into it. Gently he started to stroke the boy's hair just like he did so often with his own kids. Slowly, he felt the tension falling off from him. Silent tears, a mix of anger and exhaustion, ran down his cheeks as he kept brushing a strand of hair out of the boy's face, more to calm himself than the boy who was by now effectively drugged and probably oblivious to any touch at all.

As he finally calmed down, a guilty pang hit his heart – surely his wife and kids would be at home, wondering why he hadn't returned home yet.

Tom pushed himself off his chair and made his way to the telephone.

The phone only rang once before it was picked up. Apparently, his wife had been sitting right next to it.

'Tom?'

'There was an emergency, Dana.'

'The kids said they made a new friend and you were going to drive him home?'

'Harry. The kid I was telling you about. He came to my surgery on Wednesday.'

'Oh,' his wife replied, taken aback, 'what a strange coincidence.'

'I know!' Tom replied. 'You should have seen my face when I saw him at the Gregory's, sitting right next to Sam and Marie! Apparently they met on the playground. I thought I might never get a chance like this again and wanted to talk to him! I couldn't just do nothing and let him walk away again!'

'Of course you had to,' his wife said reassuringly. 'So did he tell you what happened?'

For a moment, Tom considered telling his wife the whole mindblowing story. Then, he decided that he didn't want to do this on the phone, fearing to scare her with his account.

'Hard to explain on the phone. But I can prove it now.'

'Oh that's good,' Dana said with a soothing voice. Then she added, 'I am sorry, love. I know this is hard on you. But you've done the right thing! He will surely be off much better now that he is safe.'

Looking at the boy who had started to stirr lightly in his sleep, Tom wasn't so sure about that. Was the child really safe? And what was he supposed to do with him now?

'Darling, please, I... '

'You know you don't have to beg.' Even through the phone Tom could hear his wife smile. 'Take whatever time you need. The kids are fine! Marie and Emma are sleeping by now and Sam's up in his room, reading this new book you bought him last week. He wanted to wait for you. I'll talk to him. You have had emergencies before, he'll understand.'

'Don't tell him about Harry though, Dana,' Tom insisted. 'I want to talk to him myself.'

'Okay, honey. Just take your time and get everything sorted. I want you to be able to get this off your mind again.'

'I love you,' Tom said.

'You too.'

With that, he hung up, sinking back into the chair once more. Twisting the fang that was suspended from his necklace, he desperately tried to come up with a plan how to handle the boy's strange power and what to do next, but weariness was finally catching up on him. Slowly letting go of his fang, his hand slipped to his side and Tom fell asleep.

x x x


	8. Worlds Collide

My dear readers... have you asked yourselves lately _Now when does Severus come into play? After all, isn't this supposed to be a Harry-Sev bonding fic?_ You are right, and the answer is: Today! I just wanted to try out a different approach with this story and needed my time to build it up. I wanted to keep it realistic and I didn't want to spoil anything by telling you beforehand when Severus would make his initial appearance, so thanks for your patience.

Please also take a little warning for this chapter for a little bit of Dumbledore-bashing and frustration coming up. As always, I hope you enjoy!

So where were we... After Tom took poor little Harry to his surgery and stitched him together again, he finally managed to get some rest. But before Tom knows, yet another very unexpected visitor steps into the picture...

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 8 - Worlds Collide**

Tom jerked awake when he heard a soft knocking sound from the front door. Glancing at his watch, he wondered whether the Dursleys had actually changed their mind and now came to claim their nephew. _But how could they? They didn't know that he had taken Harry to his surgery._

As the knocking grew louder Tom stood up, regarding once more the little boy who had curled up into a little ball, tightly clutching the blanket he had been covered with. He kept mumbling incomprehensible words and stirred every now and then. Tom had considered giving him some tranquilizer, but decided against it. _The child needs therapy, not pills,_ Tom thought.

Yawning, he made his way to the front door. He had been certain that this day couldn't possibly become any weirder, but as he opened the door and saw this old, bearded man with a long robe and a very _odd_ hat, he changed his mind.

'How can I help you?' he asked his late visitor.

'Are you Dr. Tom Richard Connor?'

Tom furrowed his brows. He was certain that his middle name read on none of his signs. 'I am. And your name is?'

'Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore...'

'I see... Mr. Dumbledore.' Scrutinizing the man opposite him, Tom added, 'And how may I help you at this time of night?'

'Oh, forgive me. This, I fear, is a little harder to explain.' The man shifted from one foot to the other, then continued with his account. 'I knew Harry's parents and upon their death I placed Harry in his relative's care. Unfortunately I learnt that this... arrangement… is no longer current, but…'

'How did you find him?' Tom interrupted sharply.

'Maybe we could go inside and continue our talk there?' Dumbledore said kindly and when the doctor opened his mouth, he added 'I am sure I will be able to answer all your questions inside.'

With a sigh, Tom nodded. He wasn't sure whether he should feel relieved that now someone who seemed to have inside knowledge came to speak to him, or whether he was supposed to worry for not having taken the boy to the hospital or alerted any officials yet.

 _This person really did look a little quaint_ , Tom thought. Although he considered himself to be very open-minded when it came to people, he had to admit that his unexpected visitor was definitely pushing some boundaries here.

Yet Tom felt that this wasn't the only reason why he didn't particularly like this stranger on first sight. If he really were a family friend and had placed the boy in his relatives' care, why hadn't he intervened before? Surely he must have checked on the child now and then. He could not possibly have been _that_ oblivious to Harry's miserable family life if he cared about the boy at all!

 _Well, there is only one way to find out,_ Tom thought and with a mix of distrust and curiosity, he asked the old man to step inside.

'I believe Harry is here now?' Dumbledore asked.

'Yes,' Tom nodded. 'He fell asleep eventually. He' is in one of the examination rooms. Maybe we should sit in the personnel kitchen and have our little talk there. I wouldn't want to wake him now that he is finally resting.'

'I believe that is a very good idea,' Dumbledore said, nodding his head thoughtfully. 'But may I see him first?'

'Certainly,' Tom nodded once more. Signalling the old man to follow, Tom led him into the examination room and stopped near the boy. He watched closely as the stranger walked up to the kid and gently reached out towards him with his hand, yet he didn't quite touch him as if he was afraid of it.

The signs of abuse were plainly undeniable.

With an unreadable expression the man kept stroking his beard, studying the boy for another moment over his half-moon spectacles. Then he turned around to face Tom again and said with a very quiet voice, 'Let us talk, then.'

'Can I offer you a cup of tea?' Tom asked automatically once they had entered the kitchen.

'Thank you very much,' Dumbledore nodded and seated himself, 'That would be lovely.'

Fetching two tea cups and preparing the drinks, Tom wasn't sure whether he should wait for the stranger to start with his account or whether he was expected to explain why he had taken the boy with him. Placing the tea on the table and sitting down opposite his guest, he took a deep breath.

'I think I need to explain something here first...,' he started, but was interrupted when the old man held up his hands.

'I believe you took Harry away from his relatives without contacting the authorities whatsoever?'

'Well you see...' Tom began, but was again interrupted.

'...without contacting the authorities, whatsoever. And for that I am very thankful.'

'I was...' Tom halted. Certainly this wasn't what he had expected. 'What do you mean?' he asked intrigued. With a smile, the old man continued.

'By now you will have noticed that Harry is indeed a very special young boy with special abilities. I understand that you have had a very troublesome day, but maybe I can help you clarify on some aspects that you would certainly find disconcerting. If you still feel that there is the necessity to ask any questions afterwards, feel free to do so.'

Tom nodded, curious about what was to come. Taking his drink with both hands, he embraced the warm cup, took a sip and leaned back wearily, eager to finally receive some answers to all the questions that had piled up in his mind by now.

Putting his fingertips together, the old man looked at Tom over his half-moon spectacles and began with his account.

'There are a lot of things to this world that cannot be seen with the mere eye, mostly because people do not pay attention to them. But a few things remain truly hidden and are only apparent to those who have special abilities. Some other people might notice, but they will try to find explanations for the unexplainable, they remain confused and in consequence try to ignore what they have seen. Just like you did today.'

Tom's hand stopped in midair and the tea he had been sloshing around in his cup came to a halt.

'How would you know what I have seen today?'

'I have talked to Petunia Dursley,' Dumbledore stated simply.

'Is she alright?' Tom asked and the picture of the woman he had left behind, sitting on the ground crying, sprang to his mind again.

I made arrangements for her and her son to get out of the house.'

'Good. You didn't answer my question, though.'

'Because I have no answer to it,' Dumbledore said with a grave voice. 'But be assured that she and her boy are in no danger at present.'

'What about Harry then?' Tom inquired.

'You experienced something very unsettling today. But obviously you didn't jump to hasty conclusions and you didn't contact the authorities. You seem to be a very open-minded person and this is why I wanted to talk to you now, ease your confusion, and help you understand what cannot be explained otherwise,' Dumbledore said. After a deliberate pause, he added, 'Are you ready for that?'

'Well, I guess so.' Tom shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat and placed his teacup on the table again. Fingers interlaced behind his head, he leaned back. Once he seemed settled, Albus continued.

'Do you believe in magic?'

Taken aback by this unexpected question, Tom didn't know how to answer. Immediately he had to think of circus or tv magicians who pulled rabbits out of their hats and, looking at his visitor's clothing, wondered if Dumbledore was in fact trying to tell him that he was one of those.

Guessing his thoughts, Dumbledore shook his head lightly.

'You see, there is magic – which you could also consider to be the mastery of illusion. Quite entertaining at times, I must admit. But then there is also _magic_ , a power within witches and wizards which enables them to perform things that cannot be explained by logic – such as Harry did today.'

Giving his perplexed listener a moment to let his words sink in, Albus took a sip of his tea as well.

'So,' Tom finally said, 'you are actually trying to tell me that Harry is a wizard?'

'Yes,' Dumbledore nodded.

'This shockwave he produced was magic? _Magic_?'

'Yes. But having said this, I must add no ordinary magic, though,' Dumbledore said and stroked his beard thoughtfully. 'It was very powerful and strong and not controllable for him at this stage. I dare to assume that he must have experienced something so grave that his unconsciousness took over and tried to keep him safe. Can you tell me what happened?'

'I thought you spoke to his aunt,' Tom noticed plainly.

'I did,' Dumbledore said, 'but I must admit that she wasn't very generous with any details.'

Rubbing his eyes, Tom regarded his visitor for a brief moment. Then he said

'I was inside the house at that time and talking to Mrs. Dursley. You see, my kids and Harry met on the playground today and they invited him for dinner at a friend's place. When I came to pick them up, I met Harry and wanted to give him a lift home. We had already met before, he came to my surgery on Wednesday with his aunt and cousin. Certain... suspicions were raised by his behaviour and confirmed when I tried to talk to Harry in the car tonight.'

Still, Dumbledore's expression didn't betray a single emotion.

'Upon arriving at his home, I told him that I needed to talk to his relatives and that I expected him to stay in the car. I talked to Mrs. Dursley for a while, which was very futile by the way,' Tom laughed humorlessly. 'Her husband wasn't at home. And then we heard this nasty scream. I ran outside and saw some sort of light that came from his chest. It was like he simply blew his uncle off his feet. Harry collapsed and I wanted to help, but somehow I couldn't get through this...' Tom hesitated. 'Well, it was some sort of barrier. It was like a…'

'…a force field pushing you back,' Dumbledore mused quietly.

'Well, yes,' Tom finished. Taking hold of his cup again, he looked at the old man expectantly who seemed hesitant to continue.

'You must understand that the kind of magic Harry performed today is not very common,' he finally said. 'I believe that he will not even be aware of what he did.'

'So, are you saying that Harry doesn't even know that he is a wizard?' Tom looked incredulous.

'I fear so,' Dumbledore replied. 'Sadly, his relatives – although informed – decided not to throw any light on this issue and entertained his misconception that his accidental magic, which I am sure must have shown before at some stage, was something... abnormal.'

Tom recalled the boy's uncle calling him a 'freak' and shook his head lightly. Then, his bitter gaze was directed at Dumbledore who raised his brows.

'You said that you were an old family friend?' Tom asked.

'Yes,' Dumbledore nodded.

'So, why didn't you put an end to this misconception?' Tom shook his head. 'Why, for crying out loud, would you let the child suffer so much when you could have explained so easily?'

'It is not that simple,' the old man begun.

'I'm sure I can keep up,' Tom said coldly.

A little too forcefully, he placed his tea on the nearby desk, causing the handle to part company with the rest of the cup. Tom looked at his hand for a few seconds, then placed the piece of porcelain on the desk and looked up again.

'He thinks he is a freak for heaven's sake! Maybe he thinks he is the only one.' After a uncomfortable pause, Tom added 'He isn't, right?'

With what seemed to be designed as a reassuring smile, Albus shook his head.

'Allow me,' he said, then drew something out of his robe's pocket. With a flick of his wand, the handle of the tea cup sprang back into place instantly, causing the cup to spin around and rattle lightly before it came to a halt again.

At this, Tom had jumped a little in his seat.

'You must understand that people tend to feel threatened by things they do not understand,' Dumbledore said calmly. 'Therefore, we try to remain hidden in order to protect ourselves and our children. Usually, magical abilities peak at the age of eleven for the first time. It is then when children are admitted to Hogwarts.'

'Hogwarts?' Tom looked incredulously at his visitor.

'It is a school for witches and wizards of which I happen to be the Headmaster. There we teach them how to control their abilities. We nurture their talents and provide a safe environment for them to experience their gift. And this, I fear, is why I have to take Harry away.'

The simple statement had connected seamlessly with the offered explanation, but Tom wasn't going to accept this easily.

'What do you mean 'away'?' he asked sharply.

'Usually it is not necessary to take children out of their normal school life before they reach the age of eleven, because the accidental magic they might display up to that point is marginal,' Dumbledore said. 'But somehow, Harry's unconsciousness is pushing him beyond control. He must have experienced quite a few things that he found unsettling. Therefore his magical potential built up inside of him until it was released and…'

Dumbledore looked up to the Doctor who had just slammed his fist on the table.

'Unsettling experiences you call this? The boy has been beaten! A lot by the looks of it!' Tom had sprung to his feet and was now pacing up and down in the very small kitchen. 'And I don't even want to know for how long this has been going on already.' Coming to a halt in front of the old man, he stared him right in the eyes and with a cynic voice added, 'Pretend you didn't know?'

Placing his cup in front of him gently, Albus started stroking his beard again. For a moment, a dull look lingered on his face before he started speaking.

'I have made a grave mistake. Upon the death of Harry's parents he had no one left to look after him. It was immensely important that he stayed with family and his uncle and aunt were the only family he had left, so I placed him in their care. At that time, they were already raising a boy of their own. I felt very uneasy doing this, believe me, yet there was no other way.'

Tom raised a brow, but didn't interrupt the account.

'Years passed and Harry grew older,' Dumbledore continued. 'Yet I fear his family never treated him like their own son. A friend of mine who lives in the neighbourhood had an eye on him, but she never noticed anything unusual. I should have recognised... therefore it is I who is to blame for this entire… '

'Stop,' Tom interrupted harshly. Dumbledore closed his mouth again and looked at him patiently.

Working his fingers through his hair, Tom held the back of his head for a while before dropping his hands again on the table, fixing his gaze upon his visitor. _Obviously, this man's ignorance knew no boundaries!_

'Don't you understand?' he finally began. Weary and exhausted he leaned against the sink of the small kitchen unit that was placed on the right side of the small room. 'This isn't about guilt. It's about the boy. You seem to have NO idea what you have done to this child. I am not a psychologist, but I can assure you he needs help to work through this.'

Albus nodded, still looking very aggrieved.

'And also,' Tom continued in full flow now, 'I find it hard to accept that you managed to notice nothing at all in, well... how many years?'

'Eight…' Dumbledore said calmly.

'In eight years!' Tom exclaimed. 'I have known this boy for three days now and I can barely imagine how hard it must have been not to notice for such a time span. How is that even possible?' Anger was winning the upper hand now and Tom saw no reason to hold back.

'And what's all this talk about 'the only way'? Harry was barely a year old when you placed him with his uncle and aunt! If you knew that the arrangement wasn't suitable, or at least when you learned that it didn't work out, why didn't you change it then?'

For a while, Tom thought that he wouldn't receive an answer and opened his mouth again, but halted when the old man held up his hand.

'The person who killed Harry's parents also tried to kill him. He survived with nothing more than a scar on his forehead.'

At this, Tom had to sit back in his chair again. He had noticed the scar before, but had assumed that it was the remainder of yet another heart-breaking episode of the poor child's family life.

'This person is a very powerful dark wizard. Harry's mother died to save him, providing him with the most powerful protection possible – as long as he stayed with his family, in a place he could call a home.'

For a second, Tom considered asking whether having the boy killed in several instalments was any better than that, but found himself unable to speak as the whole weight of the story pushed down on him.

'Was he prosecuted?' he finally asked resignedly.

'I am afraid not,' Albus said and held up his long index finger when Tom had opened his mouth again. 'Some believe he has gone, killed by the curse that backfired on him. Personally, I do not think that this was the end of him. And that is why Harry needs the protection of his family.'

'There is no such thing!' Tom snorted. 'Protection of his family... If you continue to let this happen, this child will suffer damage beyond anything a therapy could possibly heal. And I can assure you he needs help. Professional help!'

Albus nodded, feeling very reminded of a talk that had taken place between Severus and him so many years ago.

'Yes,' he said deliberately. 'I agree that he does need help. But you need to consider his display of magic. A, forgive me, ordinary psychologist would clearly be unfitting to work through this with him. It would be too dangerous.'

Tom leaned his head into his hand, elbow on the kitchen table. This had certainly been enough trouble for one night. He had expected some problems. Such stories were never dealt with silently... But _this_ was definitely beyond any category he could have come up with. The old man had promised answers, yet, in Tom's eyes he had only added to the misery until now. Surely this mind-blowing story made sense – in a way. But Tom wasn't ready to accept it yet.

'How did you even get to know about all of this when you were at, how did you call it?'

'Hogwarts?'

'Yes. How could you possibly have known and come here so quickly?'

'You must understand that my contact with the Dursleys has been very... limited.' Dumbledore began. 'Today I received a letter from Petunia – quite an unusual act in itself - and upon reading it, I decided to talk to her immediately. I fear I didn't manage to get to the root of things.'

At this, Tom gave a dry laugh, remembering the conversation that had taken place between him and the woman just hours before.

Undeterred by this reaction, Dumbledore continued. 'Yet you could say I was forewarned when I received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic which informed me of an Act of Underage Magic.'

'A _what_?' Tom asked, a little unnerved. He wasn't used to lag behind on conversations.

'Magic can be a dangerous thing when not controlled properly,' Dumbledore said. 'The Ministry of Magic ensures that our world as well as the non-magical world stays protected. Especially with our young ones we have to be very careful. Normally their parents take care of this early part of their magical education, but as Harry's relatives are purely non-magical, I am the designated contacted for the Ministry in such matters if need arises. And so it did this evening. We already figured out that this was an act of self-defence, so there will be no consequences for Harry who wasn't even aware of his actions. Yet he needs help to control this magic, otherwise it will continue to threaten him and those near him.

Tom kept scratching his ear, holding on to the fang. Usually it helped him think.

'So, how did you find me?'

'I talked to Petunia,' Dumbledore said simply. 'She told me who you were and from that point it was an easy task to find you. I left immediately to come and see you.'

Still Tom wasn't satisfied.

'What about Harry's uncle? Will he be prosecuted? He can't get away with this.' After a pause, he added, 'If it weren't for Harry's display of magic, I would have reported the case right away, of that you can be sure.' Certainly, Tom was not willing to cover up for the flaws of his visitor simply because he was run over with an, admittedly, mind-blowing story.

'I understand your point and believe me, I do intend to pursue this matter,' Dumbledore said. 'But please keep in mind what I have told you tonight. We cannot call on local authorities in this matter. There would be investigations and at some point, sooner or later, they would stumble across those unsettling things which you experienced today. Believe me, Harry needs to be protected from this or further harm will be done to him.'

Albus regarded the man who sat opposite to him and who was clearly upset by the injustice about to be done.

 _This was simply not right._ Tom had planned to document the boy's injuries and press charges as soon as he had figured out a way to cut Harry's powers from the story. And now this old man, who had clearly failed to take important matters into his hands for the last eight years, told him that he would take care of this now!

'What about his family then?' Tom finally asked. 'The Dursleys know that I have taken Harry away with me. What am I supposed to do if they come to me?'

'Well,' Albus continued. 'As I believe, Petunia asked you to take Harry with you. Although they might not have been on best terms, she clearly saw the need for you to protect him as she couldn't tonight. Regarding her husband,' Dumbledore added, 'I can assure you that he has no intention of claiming the boy.'

'What will happen to Harry then?'

'This is indeed a very difficult matter.' Taking another sip from his tea, he regarded Tom and continued.

'I will talk to a close friend of mine tomorrow. His magical abilities, specifically regarding powers that are solely mind-controlled, are outstanding. If Harry happens to perform accidental magic again, I would blame myself if I hadn't put the best qualified person with him who could aid him and take care of him if need arises. He will make sure that Harry doesn't harm himself until he learns how to control his power. Also,' Dumbledore added, 'he is a teacher at Hogwarts. Maybe it will make the transition for the boy easier later on.'

Tom couldn't help but find that the old man's timing couldn't have been worse when it came to thinking ahead for the sake of the boy. Now that he had finally managed to talk to the child, Harry was supposed to be taken away yet again. Also, he didn't like the idea of covering up a story which this man managed to ignore for years. He couldn't imagine how this person was supposed to take matters into his own hands.

'And as this accidental magic can happen at any time, he has to stay with this friend of yours continually?' Tom finally asked, running out of ideas what to say next.

'I am afraid so,' Dumbledore nodded. 'I need to observe his progress. Once he has reached an understanding of his magical abilities and learned how to control them, I would be happy for him to come back here at times if you do not object? But until then I think it wouldn't be a wise choice to place him at any other place.'

Tom was starting to have a bad headache from all the news he had to digest. At the same time, the old man simply didn't seem to be able, or willing, to understand.

'Don't you understand?' he said angrily. 'Harry is afraid and he feels lost. From what you are telling me, he has been forsaken all his life and now that he finally started talking to me – to anyone for that matter – you jerk him out of this, to place him with yet another stranger? Don't you get what this will do to him?'

For a moment, Dumbledore stroked his beard absent-mindedly, a dull look on his face. Then he looked at Tom and asked

'Do you have family of your own?'

'You are not answering my question!' Tom exclaimed.

'Please,' Dumbledore insisted. 'Do you have family of your own?'

Tom nodded impatiently. 'A son and two daughters.'

'Surely you wouldn't want to risk their safety,' Dumbledore tried to reason, but was only rewarded with an angry look. Clearly the doctor was not accepting his concern as legitimate.

'I can understand your concern,' Dumbledore tried to appease Tom, 'I appreciate it very much. And it aggrieves me that I cannot suggest another option. But maybe you can help me prepare Harry for this transition. Maybe it will make it easier on him this way when someone familiar to him explains it?'

'You realise what this will teach him?' Tom said through his teeth. When the old men just looked at him, he angrily added 'That it doesn't repay to trust anyone!'

Still, Tom couldn't read a single emotion on the old man's face. After a long silence, Dumbledore raised his hands and said

'Of course, if you object I would never pressure you to talk to Harry and will handle it myself.'

 _No, you certainly won't, T_ om thought.

Upon the questioning look he received, Tom sighed deeply and rubbed his tired eyes with his fingers.

'No, it's okay. I'll do it.'

Dumbledore nodded thankfully. 'When do you think he will be ready?'

'Tomorrow afternoon, I guess,' Tom said. 'It will not be possible any earlier. He needs to pick up his belongings from his relatives' place and I want to make sure that we talked properly before he leaves. Will you ... arrange... something to pick him up?'

'4 p.m.,' Dumbledore nodded. 'Does this suit you?'

'I guess so,' Tom said.

With a nod, Albus stood up and headed for the front door, followed by his host.

'Thank you very much for your time, Dr. Connor,' he said, raising his hands. 'Please accept my sincerest apologies regarding this. It is a very unfortunate situation and you should not have been put into it.'

'I am not sorry at all,' Tom replied coldly.

After a short while, and a look very uncharacteristic for the doctor, he added

'I can't believe that you managed to look away for such a long time.'

And with that, he silently pointed towards the door.

'Until tomorrow then,' Albus nodded and left.

Once the old man had stepped through the front door, Tom shut it determinedly, turned around and leanded against it, running his fingers through his hair. He went back to check on the boy who was still sleeping restlessly on the stretcher. Desperate for something to do, Tom started pacing the floors of his surgery, trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

x x x

 _How dare he do this to him?_

Severus was pacing up and down his living room. Clenching his fists, he couldn't decide what to do first. Many things were ravaging his mind and a glance at his watch told him that all he had left were two hours. He started to grow uneasy.

This wasn't the turn he had expected his weekend to take. Not that it had looked quite so different from the rest of his week during the school holidays, though. He had prepared a few potions, restocked his inventories and read a lot of new books. Really nothing out of the ordinary. It was calm and peaceful, foreseeable.

He had been intrigued by the casual greeting the Headmaster had offered as he had popped his face through the fireplace in his study half an hour ago, asking if he could – briefly – come over and have a little talk with him.

 _He should have flat out denied. But how was he supposed to know!_

Several minutes had passed, yet he hadn't digested the news.

 _This was ridiculous!_

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes, trying to calm down.

 _Why now? Why him?_

Long forgotten emotions had welled up in his heart, emotions he had shut out, locked away securely – and for a good reason that had been! It had taken long not to feel the hurt anymore, to shut it out for good. And here the Headmaster came, serenely smiling at him as if delivering a dinner invitation you couldn't reject, putting weight on his shoulders he was unwilling to carry himself. Of course, Dumbledore had his story wrapped up nicely, covered in the beguiling garment of a question. But Severus had recognised his strategy right away.

 _He hadn't been given a choice._

x x x

'I wouldn't ask you if there was another way,' Dumbledore offered, 'Believe me, Severus.'

'No, Headmaster, I cannot do this.' Severus shook his head, determined not to give in.

'My boy, do not make the mistake and take him for James.'

'It is impossible!' Severus pressed, 'I cannot do it.'

Dumbledore had seated himself quietly in the chair that had been offered to him and tilted his head lightly now. He liked Severus' study. It smelled of new books, parchment and burnt wood that crackled in the fireplace all year long which interrupted the long lines of bookshelves seaming the walls on each side. Dumbledore's eyes rested on his Potions Master who was pacing his study.

 _He had expected this. It was natural for Severus to refuse. But there was no other way.  
_

'Do not think of James here. Think of Lily,' Dumbeldore said camly.

 _Don't you DARE manipulate me,_ Severus thought _._ He _did_ think of Lily. And that was what made it so difficult! He just couldn't bear the pain. And there was more to it...

'I CAN. NOT. DO IT.' He pressed.

'Severus,' Dumbledore sighed, 'I know your heart is in the right place, as are your loyalties.'

'Headmaster!' Severus stopped in his tracks, 'Surely, you would never question my loyalty. It has never since changed. You know that.'

'Oh, my boy. Of course I do. I know...'

The long silence was only interrupted by the crackling sounds emanating from the fireplace now and then. _  
_

Staring into the flames, Dumbledore stroked his beard. From the instant he had received Petunia's letter, he had feared things would take this turn. He had pondered how to approach Severus, how to make the decision easy on him. But no matter how long he had entertained the thought, a simple solution had refused to present itself to him.

In a moment of desperate hurt, a young Severus had come to him and although he continued to willingly offer his help, the boy had refused henceforth to talk to him, choosing hurt and pain over his so-perceived weakness. He had remained a mystery to the headmaster.

There had been single bright spots in Severus' life – Lily surely being one of them. But his heart had been troubled. Clouded with hurt, caused by things he wasn't responsible for, he had made wrong choices. In an attempt to seek strength and acceptance, he had turned to the Dark to flee from an unbearable life. Quickly he experienced that nothing had changed for the better. Contrary, his life had been demoted from misery to hell. It had been one false decision, and it had driven Lily away from him. Severus was responsible for it and he had accepted to bear the painful consequences long ago.

With a sigh, Dumbledore decided to put an end to the awkward moment and settle things for the time being. He cleared his throat audibly until he was sure to have Severus' attention. Severus had crossed his arms in front of his chest and was now eying the headmaster with a neutral expression.

'Regard this as a purely necessary matter then,' Dumbledore said businesslike. 'I know you will never abandon my trust and I need you to make preparations as I instructed. I will be returning tonight with the boy.'

And with that he stood up, raising his hand as Severus began to make his way towards the fireplace.

'I will find my way,' Dumbledore said. 'You have a lot of things to do now.'

x x x


	9. Forsaken

There we go again… after Dumbledore left Tom and Severus behind very upset, it is up to the doctor to make the transition for poor Harry as smooth as possible. But how will Harry take it to be yet abandoned again?

* * *

 **Please Come For Me – Chapter 9 – Forsaken**

Harry hadn't slept well. Weird images kept popping up in his head as he had dreamt incomprehensible and disturbing things. He was hurting and felt exhausted. Everything was still blurred when he opened his eyes. He rubbed them and tried to take in his surroundings.

He was lying on a stretcher, covered with a blanket. Rolling a little bit onto his side, Harry recognised Tom who was sitting in a chair next to him. His head was leaned against his hand, elbow on the armrest, eyes closed, the other arm dangled limply from the side of his body. His hair was ruffled, but apart from that, he looked quite peaceful.

Slowly, memories started to come back to Harry, accompanied by a feeling that left his stomach painfully twisted.

 _He knows,_ Harry thought. _I told him and then he left me alone. He said everything was going to be alright, but he left and then… Uncle Vernon came…_

The feeling in his stomach only worsened as the memories continually became more vivid. Tears started welling up in Harry's eyes. The feeling of anger and confusion increased when he couldn't string together all the bits and pieces he had figured out by now.

Unconsciously he grabbed his forehead with his right hand and ran his fingertip over a large plaster. It felt weird.

Harry wiped his nose with his left hand, stifling a sniff and tried to get up. Rising too quickly, he felt a hammering pain inside his head and his vision blurred once more. He swayed dangerously and tried to grab hold of anything to keep him from falling. He stumbled towards a metal shelf on the wall next to him, attempting to hang on to it for a second to regain his balance. It withstood his weight only for a brief moment.

With a shattering noise, the shelf ripped from the wall and a glass that had been placed on top of it shattered into countless pieces. Deprived of his hold, Harry fell backwards, only to hit the stretcher and fall forwards again, this time to the glass-sprinkled floor.

Tom jerked out of his chair and sprang to his feet when the sudden noise reached his ears. He had been tired and restless, upset by the conversation he'd had with this strange old man last night. So many things had been running through his mind, confusion battling severely with curiosity and plain perplexity. He had wondered how he could possibly approach Harry and talk to him about the impending transition and must have dozed off eventually.

Tom glanced at his watch and noticed that it was already past midday.

Taking a quick look around, he saw that Harry knelt on the floor, desperately trying to pick up pieces of glass.

'STOP!' Tom shouted which caused the boy to jerk violently. Harry's eyes widened fearfully when Tom hurried towards him, picked him up and placed him on the stretcher again.

Instantly tears welled up in the boy's eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

'I didn't mean to…' he started babbling. 'Please… I just... lost my balance... I never wanted to break it... I...'

'Stop it!' Tom interrupted the boy's incoherent excuses.

The boy was working himself into a state quickly and all he had wanted to do was prevent the kid from cutting himself on the shards!

Tom looked down at the boy who had buried his hands underneath his thighs, eyes downcast, looking properly ashamed and scared.

'Harry, look at me,' he said, his voice now even and calm.

When nothing happened, Tom lifted Harry's chin with two fingers until their gazes locked.

'Calm down. Breathe,' he ordered. Then he said 'Harry, I am not angry with you. It was an accident. Those things happen.'

'But... but you shouted at me,' Harry said. 'I thought you were going to...'

Harry's face twisted and his voice trailed off. Confused and hurt he looked down, only to feel his chin being lifted up again instantly.

'Harry,' Tom tried to put on his most reassuring tone. 'I am not mad. I wasn't going to hurt you. I just didn't want you to get injured. Those shards are very sharp and cut your hands easily, even when they are so small that you can't see them. Do you understand?'

Harry nodded hesitantly, more tears spilling down his cheeks, leaving wet drops on his jeans.

 _Yes, he knew._

'I know you wouldn't,' Harry started feebly. 'It is just that...'

Harry was angry that his voice was betraying him yet again. He closed his eyes when Tom's hands gently cupped his cheeks, pushing his head against them for a short moment.

'I broke things before,' Harry said very calmly after a while, without making eye contact. 'And Uncle Vernon got mad.'

'What happened then?' Tom inquired carefully when the boy didn't continue.

'I broke a bowl because it was so heavy,' he replied automatically, then corrected himself. 'No, I dropped it because I was so stupid and didn't carry it properly.'

Tom wanted to interrupt, but held back when the boy's eyes became glassy.

x x x

' _What are you waiting for, boy? Need directions to find the dining table?'_ Vernon sneered at a six-year-old Harry.

The boy was carrying a huge bowl full of chocolate pudding. He knew he wasn't going to get any, but he was allowed to serve it and watch hungrily while his overweight cousin would dig in.

Swaying under the heavy weight of the bowl, he carefully tiptoed his way towards the dining table. The bowl was so huge, the boy didn't have a chance to see his cousin's leg being stuck out as he passed his chair.

The bowl broke into countless pieces and with a great splatter, the floor was smeared with pudding. Harry tried to stumble to his feet as his cousin keeled over in his chair from laughing out loud.

' _Heeeeeeey!'_ Harry started, but in an instant, Vernon had closed up on him. His uncle hadn't seen what Dudley had done. Or maybe he had and simply didn't care.

' _Uncle Vernon, I didn't...'_ He wanted to explain that this hadn't been his fault, but his uncle wouldn't listen. Instead, Harry was spun around and smacked hard several times.

' _Oowie, Uncle Vernon...'_ Harry started pleading again while another couple of swats caused his backside to throb painfully.

' _What is it with you that you can't do anything right?'_ Vernon raged angrily, jerking the boy around by his shoulders again. Tears were streaming down Harry's face by now.

' _But... but Dudley tripped me...'_ Harry protested. This was so unfair!

' _He's lying,'_ Dudley said without even looking up from his plate, but Vernon didn't even bother to look at his son. He grabbed Harry by the hand and dragged him towards the remainders of the bowl that lay on the floor. Pushing him forcefully, Harry stumbled and fell into the mess, cutting his hands on the shards.

Harry tried to get up, but was pushed back down into the broken glass once more. His palms started bleeding and he felt the shards cut through the legs of his trousers. Petunia had opened her mouth but closed it again when Vernon jerked his head towards her angrily, eyebrows raised. When his wife didn't say anything and started picking at some left over vegetables on her plate, he redirected his gaze towards his nephew.

' _Don't you DARE blame this on Dudley!'_ Vernon thundered. _'You want to act up, feel free to do so.'_

And with that he raised his right hand menacingly, awaiting the boy's reaction. To Vernon's disappointment, the boy chose not to act up, but instead started picking up pieces of the broken bowl.

' _Clean up this mess and get out of my sight,'_ he yelled, angry that he hadn't been able to work off his frustrations any longer. ' _You ruined our pudding!'_

x x x

Harry ran his thumbs across his palms which were still covered by his thighs. It had taken a long time for the microscopic shards to grow out of his hands. He had tried to pick them out of his palms once Vernon had sent him to his room, but his attempts had only made it worse. The cuts inflamed and left his hands aching for weeks.

But he had learnt not to blame anything on his cousin. It was always _his_ fault.

Tom regarded the emotion-stricken face of the child in front of him who had stopped talking a while ago. He knew better than to pressure Harry into disclosing any memories he wasn't ready to share yet.

'You are not stupid,' he said slowly and profoundly after another long moment. When he stroked away the boy's tears, Harry sobbed involuntarily.

'Now, show me your hands,' Tom ordered.

Refusing to let go, Harry pressed his thighs tightly onto his hands. He looked at Tom, unable to hide his anxiety.

'You are not angry?' he asked eventually, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

'No,' Tom said simply.

'But I... I broke your shelf.'

'Don't worry about it. Nothing I can't fix,' Tom smiled but failed to cheer up the child.

With a sigh, he reached for the boy's arms and withdrew them until they were outstretched in front of Harry's chest, palms facing upwards. Apparently, they were unharmed. Looking at Harry's swollen wrist, he let go of the unharmed hand.

'We'll have to do something about this,' he said, letting go of Harry's hand carefully. Walking towards a cabinet, he searched through the drawers. Moments later, he turned towards Harry again, holding a bandage in his hand.

'It'll ease the pain,' Tom said when he started wrapping the fabric around Harry's wrist. 'You won't be able to move it for a couple of weeks, but it will help the healing process until the swelling is gone, ok?'

Slowly, the boy nodded at his knees. When the bandage was firmly in place, Harry pulled his hand back but felt himself unable to do so. He lifted his gaze and realised that Tom was already looking at him.

'Don't move,' Tom ordered sternly.

He left for the kitchen to fetch a dustpan and quickly swept together the shards. Once he was sure that no shattered glass was left, he leaned the broken shelf against the wall and put the dustpan aside.

Turning around again, he drew the chair he had slept in closer to the stretcher and sat down, merely an arm's length away from Harry. The boy still looked apprehensive.

'Harry, does your head still hurt?' he asked.

'A little.' The answer came hesitantly.

'I'll get you some pain reliever in a minute. Do you feel sick?'

Harry tilted his head lightly and closed his eyes for a second. Did he? The painful knot in his stomach was still there. Yes. He felt sick. And betrayed. But that was probably not what Tom had wanted to know.

'No,' he lied unconvincingly. Tom raised his brows.

'Are you sure?'

'Yes,' Harry answered slowly.

Tom sighed.

'Harry, can you remember what happened last night?'

Again tears welled up in the boy's eyes, causing him to blink more frequently as he refused to shed them.

'It's okay, Harry, don't worry,' he began. 'This is not your fault and I am not angry. Do you remember anything at all?'

'No.'

Tom looked into two stubborn eyes.

'Harry,' he began. 'What is it?' When the child continued to ignore him, his voice became more urgent.

'Please talk to me!'

'NO, I WON'T!' Harry screamed.

Taken aback by the child's sudden outburst, Tom ran his fingers through his hair and tried to school his features into a neutral expression.

'I know this is scary, Harry, but you need to talk to someone! You can't deal with this alone. And you don't have to. I'm here to help you.'

Harry angrily wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and glared at Tom. He was breathing heavily and Tom feared he might start hyperventilating again, when the boy finally managed to voice his hurt.

'You lied to me!' he choked.

Confused, Tom studied the little child, trying to think of anything he had said or done that would justify such an outburst.

Obviously further annoyed by Tom's obliviousness, Harry repeated

'You lied to me! You said everything was going to be alright and then it just got worse!'

It struck Tom like a fist right across the face. He had been so stupid. How could he not have seen?

 _I told him he was safe!_ Tom cursed himself. He had expected Harry's relatives to be both in the house and the boy to be safe in his car.

Crestfallen he rested his forehead in his hands for a moment, then looked at Harry.

'Please forgive me.'

Harry was still angry, but this sudden apology startled him. Never before in his life had an adult apologised to him.

'I should never have left you alone in the car,' Tom continued. 'I made a big mistake and I cannot do anything to change yesterday's events. If I could, I would do so, gladly. Please believe me, I never wanted to do anything which would harm you further.'

Starting to chew his bottom lip, Harry felt his emotions battling a fierce fight again. On the one hand, he wanted to believe that Tom had just forsaken him, betrayed him, like everybody did. It would be so much easier to bear the pain if he had.

 _On the other hand_ , Harry thought. _Tom had apologised, hadn't he? And it had felt sincere._

Sensing the child's distress, Tom tried a different approach.

'Harry, you have every right to be angry with me. I don't want to hurt your feelings again. So I won't pressure you into talking to me. But if you feel like it, you can tell me anything you want to. No matter what it is. And I promise you that I will fully accept everything you say.'

 _Silence._

'And it will stay between us,' he added. 'I promise.'

'I... I am angry with you,' Harry quietly said and eyed the doctor carefully. When Tom just nodded, he continued.

'And... and you.. you lied to me. That really hurt!'

Tears were running down Harry's cheeks again. Tom felt the urge to wipe them away with his thumbs, stroke the boy's head, utter some gentle words, but somehow he couldn't do it right now, afraid that Harry might stop talking again. Instead he just looked at him.

'You said everything was going to be alright!' Harry cried. 'I trusted you! I feel so stupid now!'

As sobs racked his frame, Harry started to fumble with his fingers, looking at his lap. 'I thought you were different, I wanted to believe what you said. But I was stupid and that's what I get for being stupid.'

Blinking a little more often than necessary, Tom swallowed hard. Then he lifted Harry's chin again with the already so familiar gesture.

'Harry. You are _not_ stupid. I made the mistake here. This is _not_ your fault.'

'YES IT IS!' Harry screamed, now more angry with himself for being so naive, so credulous. Jerking his chin out of the doctor's gentle hold, Harry backed against the wall. 'I do stupid things all the time, I am worthless and I can't do a single thing right!'

Tom was starting to feel desperate when two angry green eyes stared him down. How was he ever going to convince the boy that this was not his fault? And even worse – how was he supposed to tell him now that he had to leave again?

'Harry,' Tom said after a while. 'Do you remember that yesterday night, something happened to your uncle?'

Startled by the abrupt change of topic, Harry started chewing his thumb nail and looked at Tom insecurely, then nodded carefully.

'But you don't know how it happened, do you?'

The boy shook his head.

'Sometimes, things happen around you and you can't explain why. Right?'

This time, Harry slowly nodded.

'Harry. I know this is scary,' Tom began, 'but it's nothing bad.'

 _Yes it is,_ Harry thought. _I am a freak._

'It must be scary not to know why those things happen, but it is _not_ a bad thing,' Tom repeated. 'It's a gift.'

Harry tilted his head lightly, troubled. Noticing the boy's confusion, Tom tried to elaborate.

'Yesterday I left you in the car and that was my fault. I wasn't there when your uncle came back home. He was angry and he tried to hurt you.'

There was a long silence.

'He did hurt you. But you were able to protect yourself.'

'I what?' Harry looked incredulously. For a moment he had forgotten that he was angry with Tom.

'Sometimes things happen and you don't know why, right?' Tom asked.

 _Yes, but how did he know?_

'Yesterday you were put into a very, very nasty situation no child should have to cope with. And you were able to protect yourself. Your uncle couldn't touch you anymore because you didn't want him to.'

Now Tom was feeling stupid. This was by far the lamest explanation he could have come up with. But he was hesitant to use the word 'magic' or delve too far into this subject. He wasn't the right person to explain this to the boy.

Hell, he didn't even know himself what exactly had been going on! He just wanted to ease the boy's distress.

'You have a special ability and it does not make you weird or... _freaky._ It makes you a very special little boy.' When the boy showed no reaction at all, he added 'It's a good thing, Harry.'

Tom realised that Harry was not really catching on to it.

Well, w _ho would in those circumstances?_

'Your head was hurt yesterday. I took you with me to take care of the cut and your, well your other injuries.'

At this, the boy stopped fumbling with his fingers, eyes downcast again. He was clearly embarrassed and Tom had fully expected this reaction although it was completely unnecessary. To break the awkward silence, he continued.

'I know it's hard and you thought no one would believe you. But I do. I did even before I saw your uncle. That's why I wanted to help you.'

'But...' Harry looked up at him again. 'Why? Didn't you think I'd lie to you?'

'Why would I think that you'd lie to me about such a thing?'

When Harry didn't answer, Tom continued.

'What happened to you is horrible, but you are not alone. At times, kids get hurt by those people who are supposed to love them and protect them. They came to my surgery and were just as afraid as you are now. But please trust me when I tell you that I have seen such things before, and I wouldn't doubt anything you told me for one second.'

Harry fidgeted in his seat. He couldn't even explain why he had expected Tom to call him a liar. Everybody did once Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon were through with their version of the story.

'You uncle has treated you very badly, Harry. And he should never have done that. But you don't have to go back there again.'

 _There. He had said it._

The impact of his words was obvious. Wide-eyed the boy looked at him, stricken with emotions, disbelief clearly dominating.

'Harry. You had to put up with this for a very long time. It is a shame that no one noticed before, but it is a good thing that now we can talk about this. There is nothing to be gained from hiding and covering up what has happened.'

When Harry still didn't react, he continued, feeling that for the first time now, he was on the right track.

'You were treated very unfairly and you have every right to be angry, hurt and confused. You feel like you are responsible for everything and have to take care of everything. But that is not the way it is supposed to be. You are _not_ responsible for what has happened to you.'

 _Silence._

'You are a child,' Tom pressed, and laughed involuntarily. Shaking his head lightly, he ran his fingers through his hair. 'It is your right to grow up happy and safe.'

This had never occurred to Harry. Never in these past eight years had the Dursleys acted like he possessed any rights at all. He had just assumed that this was the way things were supposed to be.

True, sometimes he felt treated very unfairly. Although he wasn't quite sure about it, he couldn't imagine that other kids were living their life the way he was. Surely Dudley didn't. Yet he had always tried to justify what had happened with the only solution that had come to his mind, the only explanation he had been taught: that it was his fault. Countless times had they told him, that _he had made them do it_.

'But were will I go?' Harry finally said, realisation starting to dawn upon him. 'I don't have any other family left.'

Then several unreadable emotions flashed across Harry's face.

'You aren't going to dump me in an orphanage, are you?' he gasped.

Tom looked at the child compassionately. He didn't know about the horror stories the Dursley's had told Harry about orphanages and that he'd be placed there immediately if he chose to 'act up and be stupid'. Even Dudley had kindled this nightmare by coming up with horrendously detailed descriptions of the miserable orphanage life Harry would surely have. Too terrified, Harry hadn't even considered where Dudley could possibly have gained such inside knowledge. He had just assumed that he was right, and that had scared the hell out of him.

But Tom wasn't stupid. Placing his hands on the distressed boy's shoulders, he rubbed little circles into them with his thumbs. Finally, the boy's breathing eased.

'No,' Tom said slowly. 'You are not going to be dumped in an orphanage.'

'But where will I go then?' Harry asked.

Tom's stomach twisted and a traitorous lump had formed in his throat again. It was now or never.

'Harry, you understood what I said about you having special abilities, right?'

The boy nodded, intrigued by the weird approach being used to answer his simple question.

'I'm not the right person to explain what exactly happened to you. I don't really understand all of it myself.'

Harry nodded again, but more crestfallen this time. He knew where this was going.

'You are special, but there are other people, just like you, who can perform equally ... outstanding ... _things_.'

At this, the boy looked up in surprise.

'Yesterday night, when you were asleep, an old friend of your parents showed up.'

'My parents?'

Harry was curious now. He felt his anger ebbing away and he didn't like that feeling at all. He wanted to stay angry. Everything had been so unfair! It was his right to be angry! But he was afraid to risk the only chance he might have to learn something new about his parents. The Dursleys had never been generous with details.

'Yes. You know that you were placed in your relatives' care upon your parents'... death.'

Tom felt uneasy cutting into this subject, but to his relief the boy just nodded.

'You were put there by a friend of your parents,' Tom continued. 'I'm afraid I can't offer you a very good explanation. Not even a bad one. He told me that it was for a good reason, but he refused to tell me what sort of good reason this had to be, I'm sorry.'

This was going better than Tom had expected, yet the uneasiness of circling the topic lingered. As was usually best in such situations, he decided for the quick-and-painful getting-it-over-with-approach.

'Harry, you can't stay here,' he said slowly.

'I know,' Harry nodded mechanically.

'Believe me, Harry,' Tom said desperately. 'I would have gladly offered you a place to stay.'

 _Yeah,_ Harry thought, the familiar anger rising again, making him feel oddly comfortable. E _asy to say now._

'I can't explain what happened to you,' Tom said. 'Nor can I help you control it.'

Harry teared up again and became so annoyed by it, he violently pushed his forearm across his face to get rid of those traitorous tears. He hissed when he tore at the plaster on his forehead, but ignored the pain. After a moment he just stared at Tom, completely lost.

Studying the boy, Tom was desperate to comfort him, say anything to make him feel better. Yet he knew that it wouldn't do any good if he lied to the boy, let him live with the belief that he could stay with him, or if he withheld any information from Harry that he had obtained so far. The boy had been lied to all his life - it had to stop _now_.

He wanted to stroke Harry's head, but the boy jerked away from the touch. Tears fell down his cheeks.

'It's okay!' Harry cried. 'I don't care! I don't want to understand it. We can just ignore it!'

'Harry!' Tom sighed, desperate for a better explanation. 'This is dangerous. You've got this power within you, and we don't know how you can use it or control it. It could harm you!'

'I DON'T CARE!' Harry screamed.

Tom felt his eyes sting and resisted the urge to rub them.

'Harry, please...' he started again, but was interrupted by the boy.

'No _please_! I'll do anything you want me to...but _please_ don't take me away...'

The boy barely managed to talk, sobbing in desperation. Tom tried to reach out for Harry once more, but again the boy backed away.

Tom lowered his arm and buried his head in his hands. Of course the boy felt forsaken! And there was nothing he could do about it. He felt anger rising in him, cursing the old man who had burdened him with this conversation. Tom had felt cheated, yet he knew that he wanted to be the one to talk to Harry, to ensure it wasn't made any harder on the boy than necessary.

Looking into teary eyes, Tom tried to reason with Harry for one last time.

'You will never have to go back to your relatives again. Your parents' friend will pick you up here tonight. We just have to collect your belongings from your home beforehand.'

When no reaction followed, he continued.

'Harry! He knows more about your abilities than I could ever tell you, he shares your gift. He can show you how to handle it and maybe he can tell you something about your parents, too.'

'I don't care!' Harry cried. 'I won't see you again. I want to stay here! I want to be with you!'

Tom sighed, but before he could speak, Harry continued desperately, changing tactics.

'I can go back to the Dursleys. I'll be fine there! It's not as bad as you think. It's me, I won't act up anymore!'

Fighting back his emotions, Tom clenched his teeth. These people had no idea how much they had damaged this little child. His uncle had nearly knocked him unconscious, slammed his head into a car for crying out loud! Yet the kid offered to go back and did so gladly, so afraid to be taken away from the familiar, from something trusted.

'Harry!' Tom pleaded. 'Please be reasonable, you can't go back and live with your uncle anymore. He won't change his behaviour, and you know that.'

'I DON'T CARE!' Harry began once more, but before he could continue, Tom reached out for the boy, ignoring the flinching, and grabbed Harry's arms. Pulling him off the stretcher, Tom drew him close to his chest. After a few seconds, he felt the resistance of the little body ebb away as small arms were wrapped around his chest and he started to stroke the boy's hair. Slowly the boy relaxed.

'I know it hurts and it is unfair,' he said and continued to stroke the boy's hair. 'But life's not fair. You may not see the reason behind all this, but please believe me I just want what is best for you. You think that going back is an option, but it's not. I won't allow that man to beat on you even one more time.'

The words needed a moment to sink in.

 _He wouldn't allow_ _it_. Tom talked like Harry would expect a father to talk about his son being treated unfairly, sticking up for him, protecting him. Yet, Tom refused to keep Harry. This was so confusing! He didn't want to feel the pain anymore. Feel cheated and hurt by anyone who pretended to care.

'Harry, do you hear me?' Tom asked when he felt the little body go rigid again. He was alarmed by the sudden change of behaviour.

The boy had ceased crying and pressed his lips together tightly, refusing to answer.

Withdrawing Harry from his chest, Tom cupped his cheeks in his hands and gently forced the boy to look at him. He wasn't even sure what he had expected, but Harry just numbly looked at him, a distant stare in his eyes.

Slowly Tom stood up, gently putting Harry down in front of him. Crouching down until their eyes levelled, he drew his breath one more time.

'You must be hungry, Harry. Do you want to come with me into the kitchen and have some food?'

The boy shook his head lightly.

'Sit down, then,' Tom sighed. 'I want to take a look at your injuries once more and get you something to make the pain go away, okay?'

Harry complied wordlessly, stepping back a pace and carefully sitting down on the stretcher. Absent-mindedly he pulled his shirt off his chest and stared blankly into nothingness.

Tom turned around towards a medicine cabinet, ran his finger across a neatly-labelled line of pillboxes and finally took out one. Briefly checking the label, he opened it and handed two pills to Harry.

'I'll get you some water,' he said, but Harry had already shoved the pills down his throat and swallowed hard.

Leaning down a little, Tom ran his thumbs across Harry's forehead, felt his throat and neck and tilted his head to either side to look at the bruises. There wasn't much he could do about these except wait until time would allow him to recover.

'Please lie down on your stomach' he gently ordered. For a moment the boy stared at him with puffy eyes, then he complied wordlessly.

Extracting another tin from another drawer, Tom popped open the lid and applied some salve to the cuts on Harry's back. The boy flinched when Tom's finger touched his back, but no sound escaped Harry's lips.

Tom sighed. Harry was so withdrawn all of the sudden, so hurt. Yet, Tom felt that anything he could say or offer to the boy would only make things worse at this point.

Quickly finishing his task, he gently stroked the boy's head once more.

'This should do it. I know it hurts now, but in a couple of days the pain will be gone and the cuts will heal. Also the pain reliever I gave you should take an effect in the next half an hour. I put some salve on to your back. It will support the healing process and keep the cuts from scarring over.'

When Harry still didn't move, he sighed.

'You can get up now.'

Harry rose and automatically put his shirt back on, looking blankly at Tom's chest.

Tom wanted to grab the boy by the shoulders, shake him out of his detachedness, reach him somehow, but just as he took a deep breath to start a sentence that hadn't even formed in his mind yet, Harry opened his mouth.

'Okay, so let's pick up my stuff, then.'

And without another word he got up and made his way to the front door.

x x x


	10. Breaking The Habit

Hello my dear reader and welcome back to the next chapter. I realise that this story is progressing slowly at the moment and also a little depressing, but that's the nature of the whole issue in the first place, isn't it? But I promise it picks up speed in the next chapter again. So where are we? After Tom had to take care of Harry's injuries and was put into the lousy situation to talk to him about the upcoming transition, frustration over Dumbledore's manipulation might have shoved any thoughts about Vernon to the backseat for a moment. But did you ever wonder what a confrontation between Vernon and Tom would look like? In my mind, it looked something like this…

* * *

 **Please Come For Me – Chapter 10 – Breaking The Habit**

Vernon's head felt heavy. He was sitting in his lounge chair in the living room, a bottle of whiskey resting on his knee. He hadn't even bothered to fetch a drinking glass and just took an occasional sip now and then.

He had been so tired last night. He had slumped down in his chair and fallen asleep in a matter of minutes. When he woke up, the house had been deserted. He had expected Petunia to fuss over him, comment on his drinking or maybe start nagging him, _again_ , about the boy - _Where was the boy anyway?_ But she didn't. She was gone. And Dudley was nowhere to be seen either.

He had strolled through the house, dragging his heavy feet across the floor, his head pounding with every step he took. Every single room was deserted and after a few moments, he began to notice that some things were missing. Yet his brain was working slowly and it annoyed him to no end that no one was around to serve as a target for his frustrations.

Once he had come back down into the kitchen, he saw a note attached to the fridge with a magnet framing a miniature picture of Dudley. Snatching the piece of paper from the fridge, Vernon had to concentrate very hard to keep his blurry vision clear and decipher the note. It read

 _Vernon,_

 _Probably you will not remember last night's events, but be assured I have had enough of it. Don't bother looking for me or Dudley, we won't come back. I am doing what I should have done a long time ago. Even if you won't remember what you did, I hope you realise that you helped a great deal with making this decision easy. I am leaving you and taking my little boy with me. You better not come looking for us._

 _Petunia_

Dumbstruck he shifted his body back into the chair and took another sip of the whiskey.

 _What the hell?_

He didn't even know what time it was or how long he had been sitting there when the doorbell brought his attention back to the present. Grabbing on to his bottle, he took a few more sips and got up, swaying as he made his way towards the door.

Vernon managed to grab hold of the door knob after fumbling with it for a few moments and turned it around, opening the door with so much force that it slammed a hole into the hallway wall.

Looking from the damaged wall to the door in his hand and finally outside, Vernon noticed a man he hadn't seen before standing in his driveway. Or _had_ he seen him before? He wasn't sure. Somehow he felt so... _odd_. His memories seemed unnaturally blurred.

Then he saw Harry cowering behind the man and rage instantly rose in Vernon's chest. _That he remembered!_ The boy was the reason for all his trouble. He had cost him his car, his job, his wife! Apparently, the boy had just ruined his whole life.

'You little...' he started spitting.

Balling his right hand into a fist and grabbing the whiskey with his other hand, he tried to approach Harry, his face twisted with anger. In blind rage, he completely ignored the presence of the doctor standing in between him and the boy, but before he could reach Harry, his balance betrayed him. Losing halt, he stumbled backwards against the doorframe which creaked severely under his weight. As he tried to grab on to the wood to keep from keeling over, the man approached him until his face was close – too close – to his own. Vernon felt his body being shoved against the doorframe by two strong hands, and barely audible, icy words were uttered into his ear.

'Don't. Even. Think. About. It.'

'What the...' Vernon began, but his brain had trouble comprehending why that stranger was standing three inches away from him and had by now raised his fist, ready to strike anytime soon. For a moment, the man looked like he was going to punch him right across the face, but then he lowered his hand, as if surprised by his own movement. Then, Vernon felt the grip on his body tighten and the other man's body leaning in until their faces were very close.

'Harry has come to collect his belongings,' the man said with a cold, quiet voice. 'We will be gone shortly and you better stay out of this unless you want to experience some of your rotten behaviour first-hand.'

Vernon's eyes protruded dangerously as he sized up his opponent. His gaze wandered from an angry face down to a necklace and a sweatshirt that stretched across the man's chest and along his arms back up to where they grabbed his own body. After a couple of moments he came to the conclusion that the fact that he had half-emptied the bottle of whiskey in his hand wouldn't contribute to his ability to successfully engage in a fist fight. His brain felt more sluggish than ever and he was almost certain that the alcohol couldn't be the only reason why everything felt so completely out of place.

'If you aren't gone in five minutes,' Vernon finally hissed, 'you'll regret it.' With that he glared at the boy once more and finally turned around, smashing into the door frame on his way back into the living room.

Tom turned around to face Harry who had visibly paled and breathed heavily, even though his detached expression hadn't changed since they had gotten into the car and driven up to Number Four, Privet Drive.

Tom rested his hands on Harry's shaking shoulders as he leaned down, maybe a bit too forcefully. Instantly the boy jumped, eyes wide-eyed. Then Tom realised that he was also breathing heavily.

'Sorry, Harry,' he said carefully and brushed a strand of hair away that was shielding the boy's eyes from his view. 'Your uncle does have quite a temper, hasn't he?'

Slowly, the boy nodded as Tom started to rub little circles into his back. Then, he pulled the child into a tight hug.

'It's okay, Harry,' Tom said with his most soothing voice, still rubbing his back gently. 'I am with you and your uncle is waiting downstairs. I won't leave your side. We'll just go inside and grab your stuff and be out again in no time, ok?'

When Harry didn't move, Tom leaned back a little, turned the boy around and gently pushed him towards the door.

 _We need to get done with this now!_ Tom thought, unwilling to stay at this place any longer than necessary. Harry stumbled a little and started moving. The weight of a strong hand resting on his left shoulder comforted him as he started walking up towards the front door.

Anxiously Harry peeked inside. Once he was sure that Vernon was nowhere near, he made his way upstairs, the weight on his shoulder never ceasing. He wondered where his aunt and cousin would be.

Then Harry remembered the boards in front of his window once he approached his bedroom. Embarrassment was warming his cheeks and he cringed at the thought. He couldn't explain why, but he didn't want Tom to see it. Tom had been so angry downstairs. Harry had been startled when the doctor had stood up to his uncle and nearly knocked him out. _No one ever had._ He didn't know what both men had said to each other, and somehow he didn't want to know. All that mattered was that Vernon had disappeared into the house soon after. Yet, seeing Tom so angry scared him, even when his anger wasn't directed at Harry.

Plucking up his courage, Harry took a deep breath and turned around, facing Tom who nearly bumped into Harry. A little startled, he raised his eyebrows.

'It's okay,' Harry said with a small voice, 'I can get my stuff myself.'

Tom opened his mouth, but Harry wasn't stupid. _This would work._ 'I just want a moment alone...in my room, ok?'

Relieved to no end, Harry realised that Tom nodded. He let go of Harry's shoulder and watched the boy apprehensively open the oddly detached door, just enough to squeeze through, and close it again as far as it would allow. He hadn't even been able to see the inside of the room properly.

 _What is it with all these broken doors?_ Tom wondered, remembering how Vernon had smashed into the front door downstairs only a moment ago.

A couple of moments passed and the boy squeezed out of the room again, holding the door handle tightly and shutting the door instantly again behind him. Harry gave him an anxious look. Then he quietly said 'Let's go.'

Tom looked at Harry who held a little packet that was wrapped up in something that looked like a pillowcase. It couldn't contain more than a handful of things.

With eyebrows raised, Tom scrutinized the bundle. Shifting from one foot to the other uneasily, he decided not to press this matter any further. He had already caused the boy enough distress for the day and, after all, from what he had heard and experienced by now, it didn't surprise him that the boy didn't possess a lot he would be able to call his own.

He stretched out his arm towards Harry in a sympathetic gesture, waiting for him to come closer, but the boy just passed by quickly and made his way down the stairs, carefully avoiding his arms.

With a sigh, Tom gave the crooked bedroom door a last glance and followed him, very alert to ensure that Vernon was nowhere near.

Once they were back outside, Harry just stepped next to the car, patiently waiting for Tom to open the door, his detached stare firmly in place, determined not to look back.

 _This is it,_ he thought. _I am leaving for good and I am not coming back. I don't care that Aunt Petunia or Dudley aren't here. They wouldn't bother anyway._

Harry knew that this wasn't quite true. But it helped a lot to think of it this way.

With a hurting heart, Tom wordlessly unlocked the car and seated himself inside and fastened his seatbelt, waiting for Harry to do the same.

The drive back to his surgery was marked by an uncomfortable silence. Glancing at his watch, Tom knew that they had still a few hours left before Harry would be picked up by this old man. He desperately wanted to do something - anything - to make the boy feel better, but the complete inadequacy he experienced left him feeling quite shaken. This detached attitude the boy was displaying now was even harder to bear than his crying and pleading had been before.

As he pulled his car up the driveway of the surgery, Tom noticed his stomach grumble audibly. He hadn't eaten since yesterday's supper at the Gregory's and neither had the boy. Although he didn't feel like having anything at all, he figured that – as he was running out of ideas how to approach Harry – he could just as well fix some tea for them and see what would happen. Also he needed to take care of his own kids eventually. They had been waiting for too long already. Again a guilty pang hit him, only increasing the feeling of inadequacy.

Closing the front door he looked at Harry who held on to his wrapped-up packet tightly.

'Are you hungry by now?' Tom asked. 'I will go into the kitchen and fix us something to eat.'

The boy didn't react.

'If you want to,' Tom said, 'you can go into the personnel room at the end of the floor and turn on the stereo or the telly. Or you can come and help me fix some tea.'

For a moment the boy looked at him, as if estimating the chances that he had just been requested to prepare his own food, but then a shadow crossed the child's face and he turned around, making his way to the personnel room.

x x x

Severus had forced himself to remain calm. After all, if there was anything he could rely on, it was his ability to withstand stressful situations. This one was rather testing his patience though.

The headmaster had left with little information and yet, a lot to digest.

Thinking of James Potter, rancour rose in Severus' chest. It was battling a fierce fight with the pain and hurt that screamed for repentance when he thought of Lily. This old fool was expecting too much of him! Severus was used to high expectations which were impossible to live up to. But this was personal, this was different.

At first, Severus had been intrigued by the subtle well-chosen hints the headmaster had offered here and there as their conversation had proceeded. He had let on about some outstanding wandless magic the child – a nine-year-old! – had performed. He had spoken of a purely mind-controlled sphere.

And admittedly, Severus had been intrigued, although he wouldn't show it of course. _A child!_

He strained himself not to enquire about this any further, a completely indifferent glare firmly in place.

'I want you to be perfectly certain that the boy won't harm himself by accidentally performing magic…or _otherwise_ ,' the headmaster had said, looking at the armrest of his chair and running his finger along it as if to dust it off. 'You will need to keep a close eye on him.'

After a pause which Severus saw now need to fill, the headmaster continued. 'I want you to figure out what it is he actually does, how he does it, and how he can control it. You are the most skilled person I know when it comes to this area of magic, and I trust you with this.'

 _Clever,_ Severus thought. _Appealing to my pride won't work, old man._

'I am sure your skills surpass mine by far, Headmaster,' he had offered, knowing the answer but awaiting a reaction that would betray the old man's motives. But to Severus' annoyance, the headmaster was equally hard to fool.

'As for now, you will have to take it as it is, my boy,' he said. 'I cannot provide a suitable place for Harry at the moment. But look around – this place is perfect for a little child, isn't it?'

 _But I am not_ , Severus thought bitterly.

During the holidays he stayed at his mansion, far away from the big cities. He had left his childhood home at Spinner's End a long time ago, relinquishing his painful memories of the place he never intended to seek out again and sought to live at the manor.

He liked it here. It was an inheritance from his mother's side of the family and – not having contact with any of his remaining family that showed no interest in this place whatsoever – he had free reign to do as he pleased here. It was calm, deserted, neutral, _perfect_.

The manor was surrounded by vast fields and forest, even a lake was somewhere close by and – most important of all – no neighbours or any unwelcome visitors. At least that was the way it had been like. Until now.

'This is only temporarily,' the headmaster had coaxed. 'As soon as you teach Harry to work _with_ his abilities and not against them, as soon as he is safe, there won't be any need for him to stay with you anymore.'

Severus had tried to view the matter neutrally. He'd shut out his emotions. He had done that so many times before, he could do it again! He would just accomplish what had been requested of him and get rid of the boy as soon as possible and return to his normal life.

Walking through the manor, Severus had tried to figure out where to best put the boy. Certainly he wasn't going to babysit him all day long. On the other hand, it couldn't hurt to have him close by to ensure that he wasn't doing anything _stupid_! After all, there were many dangerous objects in his house. He would have to lock them away before the boy arrived, Severus thought.

Next to his master's bedroom was another spare room, considerably smaller, but it would serve the purpose. It contained a four-poster and a wardrobe, some bookshelves full of dust-covered volumes and a little fireplace. With a flick of his wand, Severus had removed all dust from the room. A new bed spread was lying heavily on the four-poster now. The large windows were spotless, the room bathing in sunlight. He thought about adding a few more cushions but then hesitated. After all, this wasn't a holiday home and the boy should better not get too comfortable around here!

Severus had tried to get some more rest once all preparations had been done and attempted to calm himself with a heavy volume in his study. But his concentration was betraying him, his gaze ever so often wandering towards the grandfather clock next to the door, awaiting the dreaded arrival of his unwelcome guest.

But this hadn't been the worst of it. It was something else the headmaster had said. Quite casually, shoved in between some other unimportant lines.

'Harry neither knows about magic nor our... habits,' Dumbledore had begun, stroking his beard carefully. 'There will be so many new things for the boy already. Let's try to make it easier on him and at least stick to some familiar things he knows, at least until he is a bit more aware of the wizarding world.' The headmaster had continued with a long list of well-meant and completely unnecessary advice. 'And maybe you should know,' he added while brushing the armrest of his chair again, 'that his magical outbursts have not been the only reason why he was removed from his family's custody.'

At this, Severus had looked at the headmaster, his stony expression not betraying a single emotion.

'Apparently,' Dumbledore started slowly, 'Harry's uncle didn't treat him very well…'

Severus had shot the headmaster a deadly glare and snorted audibly, but the old man continued unperturbed '…and he surely needs to work through these experiences with someone who can help him understand.'

Severus broiled. That damn fool had been wise not to mention it up until now.

Coldly, Severus jerked his head towards the fireplace. 'I believe you have instructed me sufficiently, Headmaster. If you excuse me, I have preparations to make now.'

'But Severus,' Dumbledore had said, 'I only wish to give you some more details of…'

'I am not interested!' Severus had spat. 'I believe you have said what you came here for, Headmaster,' and turned around to approach his desk. Every inch of his body signalled that this conversation was over.

The headmaster had departed and left Severus behind, his knuckles white from the force of holding on to his desk. For minutes he stood there motionless. Then he slowly let go of the hard wooden surface and turned around, leaning against his old desk and running his hands through his hair. _He needed to get to work!_

x x x

When Tom walked to the personnel room with a tray, laden with two cups of hot chocolate and some buttered toast, he noticed that Harry was sitting on one of the chairs next to the window rigidly. He looked like he hadn't moved at all, let alone touched anything.

Placing the tray on the table in the middle of the room, Tom sat down and studied Harry for a moment, his gaze resting on the way too big shirt Harry was wearing. Again, the bundle Harry had retrieved from his room popped to his mind. Was this really everything the child possessed?

Suddenly, the boy grabbed on to the hem of his t-shirt and started to pull it over his head, exposing his wiry frame.

'What are you doing, Harry?' Tom asked, confused and a bit ashamed of his outright staring.

Putting the shirt aside carefully, Harry began picking at his bundle and pulled out a rather shabby looking and ripped shirt and started to put his right arm through the sleeve. Looking at Tom who still watched him curiously, he blushed violently.

'That isn't mine,' he finally said with a small voice. 'It's yours. Surely you want to have it back.'

Sighing, Tom stood up, crossing the space between Harry and him with only a couple of strides. Holding the boy's hand in mid-air, he pulled the old shirt off Harry's chest again and placed his own carefully in Harry's hands.

'Put this back on,' he said. Then an idea struck his mind.

'No, wait here,' he said to Harry who looked genuinely surprised now. 'I want to give you something, I just need to get the box from the storage room.'

Walking down the hallway, Tom passed the reception and, just before the front door, turned right into another small hallway. At its end was a small room with many boxed up things he kept in here but rarely used. Searching through the unlabelled boxes he looked for his son's clothing. As he had no boy to wear it up and his daughter had ever since refused to try on her brother's 'boy things', he had figured that they served a better purpose here if he ever needed them. _Why hadn't he remembered last night?_

After minutes of searching through dust-covered boxes, he finally retrieved some grey jeans, a crimson t-shirt and a sweatshirt with a lion on its chest. Checking the small size, he figured that they would probably do, considering Harry's tiny frame.

When he re-entered the personnel room, the boy looked up from his chair, his chest still bare, Tom's shirt in his hands.

Walking towards Harry, he placed the bundle of clothing next to Harry's chair and stretched out his hand. Obediently, the boy surrendered his shirt.

'Those are yours now. Try them on!'

For a moment, the Harry looked incredulously, as if he feared to be tricked into something.

Apprehensively he stroked the woollen bundle.

'Sam loved them,' Tom said gently, 'but he grew out of them years ago.' When Harry still didn't move, he added 'I would love to see them put to better use than lie in a dusty cardbox for years until I have to throw them away.'

This seemed to do the trick. Finally, Harry got up, aware that Tom was watching him expectantly. Slowly, he started to unbutton his trousers and was just about to step into the new pair of jeans when Tom let out a sigh. Irritated, Harry looked up.

'What happened to your knees, Harry?' Tom rubbed his forehead with his hand, shaking his head lightly. _Why hadn't he undressed the boy and searched properly for any other injuries?_ His whole routine when it came to reporting such cases had been upset and now he watched his professionalism ebb away by the minute.

'I fell down when Uncle Vernon threw me out that night and…' Harry stopped in mid-sentence when he realised that they hadn't spoken about their nightly episode before.

'Ok,' Tom said slowly, 'just let me handle this, right?' He beckoned the boy to follow him. Thankful that he didn't have to answer any more questions, Harry nodded and trailed Tom to his treatment room, seating himself on the stretcher once more.

'Are there any other injuries I need to know about?' Tom asked, looking Harry right in the eyes. The boy cringed under the stern gaze, but his voice was steady.

'No, Sir.'

Still, Tom's gaze lay on Harry. Finally, he said very slowly

'Did he ever touch you?'

'No!' Harry exclaimed, his face flushed.

'Calm down, Harry,' Tom ordered gently, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders once more again.

'I had to ask, do you understand?'

'Why?' The boy looked stubborn now.

Tom weighed his options. 'Well,' he began, 'I told you that you will never have to go back to your uncle again and nothing you can say or do will change this, do you understand?'

'Yes, Sir,' the boy nodded slowly.

'What you had to experience is very bad and it's important that you find someone you trust, someone you can talk to about this. Make sure you don't bottle it up.'

The urgency of Tom's words made Harry cringe.

'I'm okay,' he said carefully, looking at the doctor's chest. He couldn't bring himself to look Tom in the eyes, but he could see that the doctor's head was shaking slowly.

'Just remember that this is important, Harry. No matter what it is you have experienced, there will be someone to help you deal with this and there is nothing to be ashamed of. But before you go I want to make sure that I have treated all of your injuries as best as I can. I don't want you to be in any more pain than absolutely unavoidable, I want you to get well quickly and this will only happen if I know where you are hurting.'

 _Also,_ Tom thought, _this person must be brought to justice somehow._ Again, emotions welled up in Tom and deep in his heart, he had to admit that, in this moment, he regretted not having punched this boy's uncle right in the face.

Maybe his expression had given away his feelings, for the boy suddenly tilted his head.

'What will happen to Uncle Vernon if I do?'

Tom cleared his throat. 'He has to be made responsible for his actions.'

'You mean something bad is going to happen to him?' Harry asked.

Carefully, Tom studied the child's sincerely upset expression.

'What would you want?' he finally asked.

'Dunno. I guess I just wanted him to stop,' Harry said simply, shuffling his feet a little.

For a moment, Tom considered discussing this further, but then hesitated. The boy was going to be taken away from him in less than two hours. He didn't want to pressure him into telling him anything he didn't want to. And certainly he wouldn't make a difference playing therapist for a few hours. Or maybe even worse, win the child's trust to abandon it right away afterwards. There was no room for discussions now.

'And you made him stop, Harry,' Tom said and patted the boy's head. Harry didn't react. _Well, it was already an improvement that he didn't flinch anymore,_ Tom thought.

With a heavy heart, Tom grabbed some ointment from a drawer in his medicine cabinet and applied it to Harry's knees. In small circles, he rubbed the tincture into the red skin.

'We will put some plasters on them,' he said to Harry who had watched him carefully until now. The cuts have inflamed, but this salve will make it better.'

When he had finished applying the salve to Harry's knees and placed the plasters on them, he put the lid back on to the little tin and handed it to Harry.

'Keep it and put in on your knees each time you have had a shower. And maybe this man you will be staying with can help you with your back. Trust me, it will make it better quickly.'

When Harry still didn't move, Tom stood up. 'Let's get you dressed and have some food, I am starving!'

The boy still hadn't eaten all day but when they sat in the personnel kitchen five minutes later, he picked at his food without any interest. Nevertheless he ate obediently, not looking up or signalling any desire to start a conversation.

Tom picked at his own buttered toast, forcing himself to eat it.

Was there anything he could say to prepare Harry for what was coming? Maybe tell him about the old man, what he had looked like, what he had said? But wouldn't that upset the boy even further? Several times he took a deep breath, only to close his mouth again instantly and resume picking at his toast until Harry looked up and just nodded.

Harry felt uneasy. He had managed to stuff this feeling of hurt and fear of abandonment deep down. He had actually managed not to feel anymore, although his stomach still twisted painfully. When Tom had given him his son's clothing he'd felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes, but had sucked it up and remained calm. _He was finally starting not to be a crybaby anymore. Certainly he just needed more practice, but apparently it worked!_

The more time passed, the more he was sure that Tom wouldn't change his mind and tell him that he could stay. Harry didn't want him to be upset. He had done a lot.

 _And at least, he wouldn't have to go back to the Dursleys anymore_ , Harry told himself.

Tom opened his mouth to say something, but Harry looked at him, shaking his head ever so lightly. Then the small hands grabbed Tom's and patted them lightly.

'You tried,' Harry said simply. And then both sat in silence, waiting for the clock to chime four p.m.

x x x


	11. A New Start

There we go. Finally some things will change… I hope you still enjoy the story and those of you who eagerly awaited Severus' appearance in it… now the time has finally come that Harry will move in with his new temporary guardian. But just see for yourself…

* * *

 **Please Come For Me – Chapter 11 – A New Start**

Petunia sat in a dimly-lit small room and glanced over to the bed where her son was lying, sound asleep. Her hands were still shaking lightly when she thought back to what she had done hours earlier. Still, she couldn't believe it as it felt so unreal.

The thought had crossed her mind before. But actually doing it was different. It appeared as if last night's events had just given her the much needed push over the edge to make a final decision.

Harry's performance had scared her, but not nearly as much as her husband's behaviour. She had asked the doctor to take Harry away and had been relieved to no end that he had actually complied. For a moment she had feared that the man would refuse, a hesitant expression lingering on his face. But then he had held the boy close to his chest and had sped away in his car.

Petunia had felt very uncertain about her motivation.

 _Did she really want to protect the boy or just get rid of him for her own sake?_

Constantly she reminded herself that the doctor was the most suitable person to take care of Harry in his state. Yet the guilty pang didn't vanish completely.

Vernon had been outraged and it was near impossible for Petunia to get him back inside the house again once the doctor and Harry were gone. By now, neighbours were glued to their windows, not even bothering to back away when Petunia glanced up towards them.

 _They all know,_ she thought. _Now they all know._

Once Petunia had managed to steer her husband back into the house, Vernon had seated himself in his favourite chair after he had grabbed a bottle of whiskey. He was really making a habit out of this now.

Slumped down in the chair he had started drinking heavily, only pausing to scream about what he'd do to the boy once he dared to show up again! Petunia's nerves ebbed away with every word he uttered. Desperate for something to do, she ran up and down the hallway and thought that she was about to lose her mind when the doorbell rang.

When Vernon showed no intention to move at all, Petunia slowly approached the door.

 _Would any one of the neighbours actually bother to check on them?_ Petunia thought. _After all, Vernon had been screaming a lot. And loudly._

Petunia felt some resistance that kept her from opening the door right away. Surely this was a _nice_ neighbourhood, but here, nice was defined by outward appearance and not by inner values or any favourable character traits, for that matter.

Being honest with herself, Petunia didn't even want the neighbours to check on them. She felt betrayed. Her façade had been shattered beyond repair. Everything she had forcefully tried to maintain had been wiped away by the events of one single night. She didn't know what she was going to say to whomever was standing on the other side of the door.

Taking a deep breath she had opened the door slowly and was taken by surprise when she suddenly looked into a serene, yet very earnest face.

'Petunia,' Dumbledore said and there was no mistaking the urgency in his voice.

'Dumbledore!' Petunia exclaimed, not sure how to justify what she had done. 'It's Harry,' she started, 'he had to leave.'

Little red spots appeared on Petunia's face as she breathed hysterically, but Dumbledore just raised his hand to silence her.

'I know, my child. I know.'

Uncertain what to make of this reaction, Petunia scrutinized the headmaster. 'The boy is gone,' she said again to make this point absolutely clear and wiped her nose with a handkerchief she had pulled from her pocket. Then she looked again at Dumbledore, afraid of the reaction that might follow.

She had feared that he'd be enraged, but he just nodded, stroking his long beard slowly.

'Do you know where he is now?' Dumbledore asked.

'Yes,' Petunia nodded. 'Well. Actually, not exactly. Our doctor brought him back home tonight. He figured that something wasn't right with Harry... and Vernon.'

Dumbledore nodded and waved his hand, encouraging her to continue with her account.

'This doctor wanted to talk to me about Harry and meanwhile Vernon came back. He was out... _drinking_.'

Petunia had spat the last word, surprised by the edge her own voice was carrying now.

'He tried to get at Harry,' Petunia continued and blushed. 'Well, actually, he did. It must have been very bad. Harry performed accidental magic and blasted Vernon away.'

At this, Dumbledore looked up and stopped stroking his beard.

'I see. Petunia, can you tell me the name of your doctor?'

She had to think for a while.

'It's Connor. He has his surgery in the neighbourhood.'

Nodding again, Albus tried to give Petunia a comforting look, placing his hand on her shoulder again.

'I will take care of Harry. You did as best as you could in today's situation and you did so admirably. Yet I believe that there are some things that need discussion later on.'

Petunia regarded Dumbledore for a second, her eyebrows pulled together. Her lips were only a very thin line. She had been afraid that the accusations would come, eventually. That she would have to justify why she got rid of the boy.

Dumbledore seemed to have guessed her thoughts, for he only shook his head lightly.

'No, it is not about getting rid of the boy,' he said. 'It is about what you let happen in your house while he was still around.'

Defiantly, Petunia held the headmaster's gaze. _What was she supposed to do! How could she possibly have stood up against her husband?_

Petunia felt anger rising inside, but before she could voice her hurt, the headmaster continued.

'Petunia, it's alright. You mustn't put the blame entirely on yourself. If there is anyone to blame, it is me. I put you into this situation and was oblivious to the pressure I added to your life by doing so. Please forgive me.'

For a while, Petunia studied the old man's features closely, but they did not betray a single emotion.

'So,' she began tetchily, 'you are not angry then?'

Dumbledore just shook his head thoughtfully.

'Anger wouldn't help the boy, now,' he said quietly. 'I think we both have to ask ourselves how we were able to remain idle for such a long time. But things will change now. I should have noticed long ago that this was a very unfortunate situation. I didn't make it easy on you to live the life you desired by placing Harry in your care. I should have taken a closer look at your husband. I never expected him to lose control in such a way.'

Nodding sadly, more to himself than anyone else, Dumbledore continued.

'I can see now what you tried to tell me before this night. Harry is not safe here. Certainly the blood wards cannot be reproduced as such, but I can draw on other options to restore his safety to the best of my abilities. You said he has performed accidental magic that manifested itself in a shield charm?'

'I believe so. Vernon was practically blasted away. At least I guess so. He lay several feet away from Harry. He was even unconscious for a while. You know them both, there is no way Harry could have done that, well, _physically_.'

'What happened then?' Dumbledore asked.

'I tried to calm Vernon,' Petunia said and dabbed at the edge of her eyes with her wet handkerchief. 'But he wouldn't listen. God, I thought he was going to kill the boy. Harry was bleeding from a cut on his head and the doctor took care of him. So I just asked him to take him away.'

She didn't mean to justify, but before she could explain further, Dumbledore interrupted.

'That was a wise decision, Petunia.'

Upon this, Petunia blinked again several times.

'I meant what I said, my child,' Dumbledore said, again in his most comforting voice. 'This is not your fault alone and you have tried to solve this dismal situation as best as you could. I am sure that the doctor was able to take care of Harry's injuries. There wasn't much you could have done for him here, with your husband in such a state. And considering that Harry has performed such outstanding magic, I will take care of this now. This power can be dangerous for him if he doesn't learn how to control it.'

Dumbledore had started stroking his beard again. More to himself, he said 'I had hoped that he could spend some more years of his life away from the wizarding world, but I guess now things need to change.'

Listening closely, Petunia had calmed a little, comforted by the fact that the headmaster's words hadn't carried the full force accusation she had dreaded.

'So you are saying that Harry will not come back here?' Petunia asked tentatively.

'Yes, Petunia. I believe it is time that someone else took care of him. And I will do what I should have done a long time ago and take care of you, too.'

'Me?' Petunia looked up into two very blue eyes.

'You are no more safe here than Harry, my child,' Dumbledore said. 'And you have a son of your own to look after. I know a safe place where you can stay. I will take care of Harry and make sure that no harm will come to him anymore.'

Petunia needed a moment to let these words sink in.

 _Did she actually want to leave her husband? Was she ready to break with her old life?_

The pain her husband had caused had been bad. But it hadn't been nearly as bad as the embarrassment she had felt upon seeing the neighbours glued to their windows and now that this feeling was back, she was certain.

'I am ready to leave,' Petunia said and nodded her head, as if to assure herself that she had made the right decision.

She looked at the Headmaster who inclined his head lightly.

'Where is your son now?'

'At a friend's place.'

Dumbledore nodded. With a flick of his wrist he conjured a piece of parchment with a couple of elegantly written royal blue lines on it and handed it to Petunia.

'Pack a bag and get your son. Leave immediately. You can stay at this place, the directions are on the parchment. A good friend of mine owns a house there and I will inform her of your arrival. It shouldn't take you longer than a few hours to travel there. Do you have enough money?'

Petunia nodded slowly. Somehow this all felt so unreal. Too many things were happening at once. And despite the anger she still felt towards the headmaster, she was oddly grateful that someone else was finally taking charge and put an end to this.

A loud snoring sound interrupted the silence in which Petunia and Dumbledore had regarded each other. Petunia jerked her head towards the living room.

'What about him?'

'I will alter his memory,' Dumbledore said. 'He will not be able to recollect tonight's events.'

Petunia nodded, but somehow couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in her stomach. The perspective that she would leave with Dudley – for good – was as encouraging as it was frightening. The option to start a new life, away from an alcoholic husband she had stopped loving quite a while ago, away from the neighbours' condescending looks, was appealing.

Yet she had loved this man at some point in her life. This was everything, but certainly not easy.

x x x

It was five minutes to four when Harry couldn't bear it anymore. Stuffing the emotions back down had become increasingly difficult as time passed and Tom just sat next to him, patiently waiting for anything Harry might say or do.

The boy interrupted the silence with a violent sob, startling Tom by suddenly wrapping his arms around the man's chest. Slowly, Tom patted Harry who had started to cry heart-wrenchingly as he began pleading.

'Please don't make me go away,' the child cried. 'I'll do anythin you want me to, please...'

Tears welled up in Tom's eyes as he hugged the little boy closer to his chest, not trusting his voice for a while.

'I will be good, I promise!' Harry begged. 'You can say anything, I'll do it, but don't make me go away...'

Gently withdrawing the little boy from his chest and holding Harry's head in his hands, Tom looked at him with burning eyes.

'Harry. Breathe. Calm down.'

With his thumbs he stroked away the tears that kept flowing across the distressed child's cheeks. It was like a dam had broken and everything Harry had pushed back down into the depths of his heart broke loose at once.

'Harry. I want you to listen to me carefully now. This is very important, do you understand?'

Miserably the child nodded, more tears falling down from his eyelashes onto his cheeks.

'This isn't goodbye. You just need to go away for a while so you learn to control your gift.'

Tom put all effort into making Harry understand that he was _not_ a freak. He was very special, but he figured that given that this was exactly the reason that Harry was being rejected now didn't make it any easier to acknowledge for the boy.

Holding the back of Harry's head with one hand, Tom brushed away the strands of hair that kept falling into the boy's face and shielding his eyes from view with his other hand.

'You are very, very special and your relatives failed to explain to you what it truly means. I am sorry that I can't help you, but I simply don't have these abilities. I don't understand them. But you will learn to control them and understand what is happening to you. Once it is safe for you, you may come back.'

At this the boy blinked, but didn't talk.

'This isn't goodbye,' Tom repeated. 'This will only be a while, but it will change your life for the better! I promise, as soon as you are safe and able to handle your abilities, you are welcome at my house anytime.'

Harry sniffed audibly and looked at Tom with glassy eyes.

'Do you really mean it?'

'Yes,' the doctor nodded determinedly.

'But what if I am not allowed to come?' Harry's bottom lip was trembling.

Tom hesitated. He didn't want to make any promises he couldn't keep. He tried to remember what the old man had told him.

'You will stay at a nice place with a friend of your parents. He is extraordinarily gifted – just like you are – and he will help you through this difficult time. I was told that you need to learn to be safe. Not harming yourself, not harming others. Once you can do this, you are free to come anytime you want to and you will always be welcome.'

Harry looked at the man for a long time, unable to voice his fear, his hurt. He had never thought that he would trust anybody so much, love anybody so much that it would hurt so much to leave that person again. After all, he had only known him for a couple of days now.

Taking another deep breath, Tom drew the boy close to himself one more time. He was relieved that the boy wasn't crying anymore. Maybe he had taken heart in the fact that this, really, was only a temporary separation. _It was, wasn't it?_

The old man had told him that he would be happy for Harry to come back to Tom once he was able to control his magical abilities.

Suddenly a thought struck Tom. Gently unwrapping his own arms from the boy, he reached behind his neck and undid the knot of his leather string on which the fang was suspended.

Surprised by the sudden movement Harry reached up, realising what was happening as the necklace was placed around his neck and tied up again.

Marvelling at the beautiful fang he ran his fingers across it several times before he felt his chin being lifted up with two fingers. It felt so comforting, Harry was sure only Tom knew how to do it.

'I want you to keep this safe for me. It's a panther's fang. It is very dear to me and I treasure it very much.'

Harry opened his mouth hesitantly, afraid that he was given an object far too important, afraid to break it or somehow lose it, but Tom shook his head lightly. He looked nearly bemused.

'I trust you to keep it safe. I know you can do it. And you will return it to me once you come back here.'

And with that he took Harry's left hand and placed the fang which was now suspended around the boy's neck in his palm and closed the little hand on it, wrapping his own hand around Harry's. Then the doorbell rang.

x x x

Harry looked up at Tom once more with puffy eyes and nodded his head ever so lightly. Then he rose, grabbed hold of Tom's hand and moved towards the front door.

Some paces away from the door, courage seemed to leave the boy. He stopped and fumbled with the fang of his necklace, holding his breath.

Tom squeezed Harry's hand lightly and walked past him to open the door.

The old man was serenely smiling at him and looking at the boy compassionately, just like he had done the previous night. His clothing hadn't changed since last night even though he had gotten rid of his wilful hat.

 _Why can't he be considerate about this?_ Tom thought, regarding the old man's clothing. The child was bound to think that he was surrendering him to a lunatic.

'Good evening, Dr. Connor. Hello, Harry.' Dumbledore outstretched his hand towards Harry, but the boy backed away until he was partly standing behind Tom, holding on to his right leg.

The doctor reached out for the headmaster's outstretched hand and shook it briefly. Hurt was evident on both men's faces as they nodded at each other. For a moment, the old man seemed to ponder how to approach the child best.

'Harry, my name is Albus Dumbledore. It is very sad that we have to meet under such circumstances. I knew your parents very well. I took care of your wellbeing once your parents passed away.'

At this Tom coughed audibly, taken by suprise. Taking care of one's wellbeing looked different in his eyes.

'As you cannot stay with your relatives anymore, I will bring you to a friend of Lily and James.'

At the questioning look he had received, Dumbledore added.

'You may wonder why you are not staying with me. I will be honest with you. Your mother was well aware that her family was in danger. She talked to me and took precautions. She asked me to place you with a dear friend of hers if need arose. And I fear today it has.'

Surprised by these new revelations, Tom looked at the headmaster but couldn't find any trace of a lie or dishonesty in the man's gaze. Maybe he had chosen to reveal this piece of information to the boy first, it was, after all, very personal.

Apparently unwilling to stretch this painful moment any longer than necessary, the headmaster decided to move on with the impending transition. Looking at Harry who was still hiding behind Tom, but obviously intrigued by the revelation about his mother, he continued.

'Harry, if you are ready we shall leave now.'

The boy clutched to the fabric of Tom's jeans with his hand, but nodded.

'He needs to get his stuff,' Tom added and stroked the boy's head with his hand once more. He turned around to get it, but was stopped by Harry who let go of him and held up his hand.

Curiously Tom watched the little boy run down the corridor and turned to Dumbledore once more, seizing his last chance to talk to the man again. Pointing his hand towards some chairs in the waiting area in front of his reception, he signalled him to sit town.

Magazines were lying on a glass desk in front of the chairs.

Once the headmaster had seated himself, Tom took the opposing chair.

'It wasn't easy to talk to Harry about this,' Tom started.

Dumbledore nodded and for the first time, Tom thought he detected regret in the man's eyes.

'I told him that he can come back to me once he learnt to control his abilities,' Tom said with a very clear voice. 'I didn't say how long and I didn't say when, but I promised that it would happen and I do _not_ intend to break this promise.'

Anger started welling up in his voice again, but Tom tried to remain calm.

'I understand that this is a big sacrifice,' the old man nodded. 'Promises are very important and I value them highly myself. I ensure you that the boy will be able to return to you once his abilities are not endangering him or others anymore. But you will understand that it depends on Harry how long this will take. He needs to heal and he needs to learn.'

This time it was Tom's turn to nod. Oddly enough, he felt a little sorry for the old man who seemed desperate to make it right this time.

'Is there a way I can reach you if I need to contact you?' Tom asked, but Dumbledore just shook his head. 'I will contact you.'

Tom was just about to object when something pulled at his sleeve. Turning around he looked at Harry who was holding his stuffed pillowcase.

Putting both his hands on Harry's shoulders, Tom looked at Harry intently. As he was still sitting, their eyes levelled.

'Remember what I told you, it is very important, okay?'

The boy nodded.

'You can come back as soon as you make good progress.' Tom stroked Harry's head again. 'You are a clever little boy and I know you will do splendidly. And I am very proud of you.'

Harry nodded but Tom felt that the child seemed to have withdrawn and shut away his feelings again.

He hugged the boy very close to him, but the return hug he received felt like an automatic gesture. Quickly, Harry let go of him and tentatively stepped towards the headmaster.

'See you soon, Harry,' Tom said, worried. He feared that he wouldn't be able to withhold his emotions any longer. He was astonished that the boy managed, although it did unsettle him that Harry seemed so withdrawn again. On the other hand, what could he expect in such a situation? Probably it was just a coping mechanism for the child that had little other options left.

Dumbledore smiled at Harry as he stepped up next to him and looked at Tom once more.

'Thank you very much, Dr. Connor. We will stay in touch.'

Waving a last goodbye to Harry, Tom closed the door and turned around once more, sinking onto the floor, leaning his head against the wooden door. The feeling of sudden emptiness hurt his heart badly and a stray tear made its way down his cheek.

x x x

Harry wasn't sure about this old man. He seemed nice, yet he didn't see why he should trust him. He had said that he had taken care of Harry. That he had done what his mother had wanted for him. But Harry couldn't bring himself to believe that those last years in Privet Drive had really been what his mum had had in mind for him. The old man's clothes were weird which only added to Harry's irritation.

 _Don't be stupid,_ Harry reminded himself, determined not to trust this person. _Don't make those same mistakes again and again._

He had followed the old man obediently as he walked down the driveway. Suddenly, the old man stopped and turned around, facing him serenely.

'Harry, the next weeks and months will harbour many new experiences for you. You know that you are special. You are not alone with this. Other people have special abilities too. Your parents had them and you have inherited their gift.'

Incredulous, Harry looked up. _Had he just said months?_

'I know, I know,' Dumbledore mused, completely oblivious of his misconception of the boy's expression, 'this is all new to you, but the whole wizarding world awaits you. You will need time to discover everything, that is only natural,' he added when the boy still didn't look very happy. As the silence stretched, some deep wrinkles appeared on Dumbledore's forehead.

'We will get going then,' he said slowly. 'As I said before, a friend of mine will take you in. His name is Severus Snape.'

Harry glanced around, irritated that he couldn't detect any means of transportation, but the old man only said

'We will _Apparate_ there. It is a means of travelling great distances in a very short time. Close your eyes. I will grab your shoulders and you may feel a little odd, but trust me, everything will be fine.'

Harry steeled his mind _not_ to trust this stranger. _He wouldn't fall for that again._ Yet he tried to school his features into a less frightened expression and nodded.

Closing his eyes, Harry felt heavy hands resting on his shoulders and had to resist the urge to shrug them off. A moment later, everything around him seemed to spin for a while. It felt like his body was being squeezed through a rubber tube and Harry found that it was a horrible feeling. He couldn't breathe and started to flail his arms around violently. The image of two bulging eyes and a pair of fat hands wretching him appeared before his inner eye again. Time seemed to stand still. Then, the horrible feeling finally stopped.

Harry felt ground underneath his feet and his right arm smashing into the side of the old man who took a step back in surprise.

'That's okay, Harry,' he said, 'It is a very irritating feeling. I am sorry I didn't tell you before but I thought it might frighten you.'

Harry didn't answer. Realising that he wasn't in trouble, he looked around tentatively. The area in which they had materialised looked completely different from Little Whinging.

There were huge fields and a forest in the distance. Wind was brushing his cheeks gently. He could smell a smoky scent coming from somewhere out of the forest. Next to him stood the old man, looking at him. Harry turned around and gaped at the sight. A huge manor that was at least ten times the size of the Dursley's house lay in front of them.

'This', Dumbledore explained, 'is Snape Manor, your new home for the time being.'

Taking the barely visible nod as an indication to proceed, he reached out for Harry's hand to lead him to the manor but the child flinched and backed away, eyeing him warily. Slowly, Dumbledore let his hand sink down again.

'Please follow me,' he commanded gently and made his way up to the manor.

They walked for a minute or two until they reached the oak front door. Then Dumbledore knocked.

A second later, Harry, who was now standing next to the Headmaster, looked into deep dark eyes that studied him intently. The man's face didn't as much as hint towards any thoughts he might have had upon the sight in front of him.

Backing away a pace, Harry studied the man's features. He didn't look unkind, just very _scary_. Maybe he was in his thirties? Harry wasn't sure. Maybe it was the man's stern look that made him appear so much older than he really was.

The man had dark hair which was a little longer than his. It gently touched his shoulders. It was straight and as black as hair could be. The man's nose was hooked but seemed to suit his features perfectly. His expression was unreadable. He was wearing black jeans and a matching long-sleeved shirt that was buttoned all the way up. Warily, Harry eyed the black leather belt the man was wearing and tensed up involuntarily. Severus didn't miss the gesture.

Somehow Harry had the feeling that the man wasn't comfortable in his clothing, although he didn't know why.

'This, Severus,' Dumbledore began, 'is Harry Potter. Harry,' he now turned towards the boy, 'this is Professor Severus Snape. You will be living with him. He is a teacher at a school called Hogwarts. I am the Headmaster of this facility. Your parents attended it too.'

Harry clutched his pillowcase with one hand and the fang around his neck with his other one. The tall man opposite him regarded him for a while, his gaze lingering on his face and his new sweatshirt for a second. Then he started to speak.

'Welcome, Mr. Potter.' He sounded rather indifferent.

Dumbledore coughed, and a tinge nicer, Severus added

'My guest doesn't seem to be very talkative. I must say I appreciate this. No childish babbling and ranting. Very good.'

Harry wasn't sure if he was being complimented or insulted. At least he was sure that he hadn't been asked a direct question. Looking at the headmaster he saw that he smiled genuinely at him and waved his hand towards the door.

'Let us step inside then, you will want to unpack,' Dumbledore said. At this, Severus glanced at Harry's rather scanty luggage which probably wouldn't take more than two seconds to unpack by turning the pillowcase upside down once. _Probably part of his brilliant plan,_ Severus thought, _letting it look like a weekend trip and once I got used to the idea he will cart in his remaining wardrobe to settle in for good._

Stepping aside, Severus motioned for his two very unwelcome guests to enter. He had made sure that the child would have no access to his inventory, potions or anything else that could be dangerous for a small kid. Of course he would order the child not to wander around anyway, but his experiences as a teacher told him that you could never be careful enough when it came to thinking like a pertinent little brat.

Once his guests had entered, he closed the door swiftly and walked along a great hallway towards a room at the end. Footsteps echoed through the hallway as the little boy glanced at the walls covered with a few pictures that were... _moving!_

Harry halted in front of a picture. It was only showing a forest, but the way the treetops moved, swaying gently in the wind... Harry had never seen such a thing before! He nearly dropped his packet when a small bird sped through the picture.

Turning around Severus opened his mouth to comment snidely on the boy's behaviour, but the headmaster was quicker.

'Harry,' he called out amiably. 'Please join us in the living room. We will need to discuss some things before I leave.'

Jerking back to the present, Harry faced the two men again and walked tentatively towards the great room they occupied, tearing his gaze away from the picture.

He felt scared. He had never seen this Mr. Snape before and had only known the other man ten minutes longer! Harry wanted to believe that, deep in his heart, Tom couldn't have let this man take him away if he were a complete lunatic. _And hadn't the old man said that it had been his mum's wish that Harry was placed here if it became really necessary?_

The black-dressed man motioned for an empty leather chair – he and the headmaster had occupied two others surrounding a dining table and waited for the Harry to sit down.

'You may leave your belongings at the door for the time being, Mr. Potter.' Severus strained himself to keep his voice at a minimal level of disgust and looked annoyed when Harry didn't let go of his pillowcase.

He resented the boy for being here, even though neither of them had asked for this. _And what humorous masterstroke had prompted the headmaster to dress up the boy like a Gryffindor? What was he trying to prove?_

Faltering under the stern gaze, Harry reluctantly dropped his package and shuffled towards the chair, lifting his feet instantly when he noticed the slightly annoyed look on the face of the younger man.

The instant he sat down, Mr. Snape started addressing him directly, his calm features not betraying a single one of the many emotions that ravaged through his mind at the sight before him.

'Mr. Potter,' he said with a very business-like voice. 'This may be new to you, but since you will be living in _my_ house from now on, you will abide by _my_ rules. There is no running around the corridors of the manor at all. Breakfast is at 7 a.m., lunch at 1 p.m., dinner at 7 p.m. In my house you will do as I say. Is this understood?'

Hesitantly, Harry nodded, confused why the young man would point out something so obvious. _But then_ , Harry thought, _maybe he was just like all his other teachers and thought that he was outright stupid._

'And you will answer when I ask you a question,' the young man added sternly.

Harry's stomach churned up, but he pressed his lips tightly together, barely nodding once more as the piercing look the professor was giving him did not waver once.

Severus opened his mouth, but noticed the shake of the headmaster's head.

 _What was this boy thinking? And what was the headmaster thinking for that matter?_

Severus was annoyed. Sure, he had to admit that the boy's face looked bruised. But apart from that, he looked pretty much like he had expected him to. Dressed up like a bloody lion with new clothes and an attitude so much like his father. Too arrogant to even talk to him! If that was the attitude he had given his uncle, it didn't surprise Severus that he had snapped eventually.

 _But that's not true_ , a little voice inside his head piped up. _Just look at him._

With an angry jerk of his head, Severus shook off the thought and motioned towards the first floor.

'I will show you the manor once the headmaster has left. You will move into a spare bedroom upstairs. And I expect you to keep it clean.'

Harry nodded again. Not making a mess and keeping his filth off other people's precious belongings was something Vernon had taught him thoroughly. The young man still looked very unhappy with him.

 _Of course he does_ , Harry thought. _Why would this man be happy to take him in? After all, he didn't even know him and if he was anything like Uncle Vernon, he was bound to hate him simply for being here._

It was Dumbledore who finally stood up and interrupted the awkward silence.

'I will leave you now, Harry. I hope you will settle in soon and make yourself comfortable.'

At this, Severus glared at him without hesitation. Dumbledore watched him intently.

'If there is anything you need to know or speak about...'

'No need, Headmaster,' Severus interrupted and motioned towards the door. 'You will find your way out.'

When Dumbledore had left his house, he turned around towards the child still sitting motionless in his leather chair and, for once in his life, felt at a loss of what to do.

x x x


	12. Demons

Hi and welcome back… I would like to seize the chance and thank you for all your lovely reviews. Thanks for taking the time, it makes me very happy to hear what you think. And also to all those anonymous guest reviews. I would have loved to reply to some of you, but unfortunately that is not possible with these unsigned reviews. Anyway, please note that your comments are much appreciated.

In the last chapter, Harry finally moved in with Severus and both seem to have realised that there is no way out of this arrangement. But how will they cope? Let's see how things continue at Snape Manor…

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 12 - Demons**

'Are you in any pain?'

The question shook Harry out of his stupor. Once the old man had left the manor, he had started to feel very scared again. He had taken a look around in the dining room. Large paintings in heavy frames were hung up on each wall. Harry noticed that none of them showed any persons, but only the vast and beautiful landscape outside. There was a large fireplace at the face of the room and many shelves with objects Harry had never seen before in his life.

Now, Harry held his gaze fixed on his hands that rested in his lap as he tried to avoid the dark piercing eyes of his new temporary guardian.

'I believe that I asked you a question,' the young man said sternly and looked at Harry's bandaged hand. 'And I do not like to repeat myself, Mr. Potter.'

The tone sent shivers down Harry's spine. Here he was, a filthy stupid child placed in this man's care who hadn't really asked for this. Obviously, his mere presence was annoying the man and Harry couldn't even blame him for it.

He started to wonder what sort of person his mum had been to befriend someone like the annoyed man opposite him, when a hand smacked the table in front of him heavily. Harry jerked and slowly shook his head at the question without looking up.

'Let me put it this way, then,' the man added calmly, inching across the table towards Harry. 'By the looks of your face or your hand, you must be in some pain, unless you have been given a potion. I am assuming you have not, or I am sure I would have been informed of this.'

When Harry still didn't say a word, he added 'I do not like liars in my house, Mr. Potter. Do. You. Understand?'

Harry managed to nod. _What sort of potion was he talking about? And did his face really look so bad?_ Slowly, Harry shoved his hurt hand underneath the other one. _Whatever the man thought to know, certainly Harry wasn't going to tell him!_

Harry ran a finger across the plaster on his forehead, deep in thought, eyed closely by the Potions Master.

'Take that off,' Severus ordered and pointed towards Harry's forehead. Carefully, Harry pulled at the plaster that refused to part company with his skin. When he had finally succeeded in removing it, the young man regarded his stitches with disgust. _Obviously, he isn't easy to please,_ Harry thought, although he didn't know what Tom could have done better.

'I will fetch some things that might prove helpful considering your condition,' the man said after a few moments. 'And I DO NOT want you to touch ANYTHING, is that understood?'

Harry nodded.

Yes. _This_ , Harry understood perfectly fine. He watched the man who pushed his chair back and headed towards his storage room, muttering something that sounded like _bloody muggle butcher_.

Severus always kept a vast number of potions in stock. He liked to feel prepared. Skimming the neatly labelled shelves with his trained fingers, he quickly picked the right potions and filled two small empty vials with the right dose. He made his way back to the living room, shaking his head at the sight of the little boy who had not moved a single muscle.

 _This boy was just as impossible as his father!_ Severus thought.

 _But that's not quite true_ , the little voice in Severus' head piped up again and he had to admit that the boy did look quite shaken.

James had never been insecure. This child was rigid with fear.

 _Maybe you aren't looking at the whole picture,_ the little voice reminded him. _Because you don't want to see it._

Angry, Severus shrugged this thought off and looked at the boy who appeared to be properly scared by his mood swing.

'Drink these,' Severus ordered and with a thud placed both vials in front of Harry.

Eying them suspiciously, Harry hesitated. When he didn't move, Severus uncorked the vials and held them threateningly close to Harry's eyes.

'You will drink these at once or I will make you. Is that clear?'

The boy had dropped his gaze to his knees again.

'It is medicine and will help heal your injuries!' Severus said, angry that the boy was so exhaustingly hard trying to make his life miserable when he was actually trying to help him.

'DRINK!'

Again the potions were slammed down in front of Harry, who carefully eyed its colourless contents and then the gaze of his new guardian who was watching him intently. Taking a deep breath, he decided that things couldn't get much worse and finally swallowed the liquids in one gulp. The effect kicked in momentarily and made Harry jump.

He felt a surge of heat flush across his face. The next moment, he felt a chilly breeze. His face and back were itching. It seemed like the scabbing was disappearing and the stiches on his forehead felt as if it they were vanishing, but the transformation stopped again before a major difference in either was achieved.

 _What a weird feeling!_ Harry thought. Never had medicine made him feel like this on the rare occasions he had been given some.

The Dursleys had always been hesitant to take him to the doctor, fearing questions such as why he hadn't been brought in earlier. Once, Harry had been given a disgusting mixture and was allowed to stay in bed for a while instead. It had taken days before he had felt better and Harry wasn't sure if that was caused by the medicine or the lack of hours of chores at these days.

Severus looked at the child's face with a hint of mild surprise which was returned by the boy.

Harry's face hadn't changed at all the way he had expected it to. The cut was still visible and many of the bruises had merely adapted a slightly lighter shade of blue. The potions he had given to him were supposed to rid him of any pain and heal the injuries on his body. It had been exactly the proper dose for the injuries Severus had noticed on the boy…

Realisation dawned on Severus' face.

Taking a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm himself, Severus leaned in very closely to Harry, placing both his hands right before him, more forcefully than he had intended to.

The boy paled momentarily and started shaking at once. Harry realised that, although he wasn't quite sure what it was, he had obviously done something very wrong.

'Good,' Severus said. 'Am I having your undivided attention now, Mr. Potter?'

Timidly, Harry nodded to his knees.

'These potions here,' he started and pointed at the empty vials with his slender index finger 'should have sufficed to heal your injuries. They were dosed _precisely_ and until moments ago I also thought _correctly_. Are there any other injuries _at all_ you have not told me about? Apart from the obvious ones,' he added. A penetrating stare accompanied those words.

Severus' patience ebbed away quickly when the boy just pressed his lips tightly together, clutching his hand to this ridiculous fang around his neck.

'How am I supposed to heal you if you are not talking to me for goodness' sake?' Severus exclaimed. 'Since we are stuck here anyway, I need to know what condition you are in because I DO NOT intend to nurse you back to health EVERY OTHER DAY!'

Severus had shouted the last part and was now quite surprised how quickly he had lost his temper. _That was so unlike him._

'If you do not cooperate,' he said, this time with an even voice, 'there are other ways for me to learn about your condition.'

 _Why didn't I perform a diagnostic spell right away?_ Severus thought.

 _Maybe_ , the little voice spoke up, _because you didn't want to. You wanted to check if the boy abides by your rules._

Annoyed at this thought, Severus made a dismissive movement which caused Harry to jump once more, clearly having misunderstood the gesture.

Trying to regain control over the situation, Severus said

'Come on, let's get this over with,' but it was no good. Tears had welled up in the confused boy's eyes, but still he pressed his lips together determinedly, shaking his head lightly.

'Fine, Mr. Potter is going to have it his way, then,' Severus commented and drew his wand from his sleeve.

At this sight, the boy sprung from his seat and ran for the door. Harry didn't care if that person wanted to help him or not, he only wanted to get away before that man could start beating him with that stick! Running as fast as he could, he made it to the door which led to the hallway and slammed hard into it - _it was locked!_

Harry was oblivious to the pain. He had pressed down the door handle while running, but instead of opening up the door had remained locked and Harry had crashed right into it. He ached badly where the door handle had slammed into his chest. Panicked, Harry looked around and made out another door on the other side of the room. Charging at it, he saw that the young man was still not moving, merely watching his futile attempts to flee.

Once Harry reached the other door he found it locked as well. This time he had slowed down in time and didn't hurt himself again, yet horror was evident on his face upon finding himself locked in.

 _How come all the doors are locked?_ Harry's mind was racing.

'Not getting it your way, Mr. Potter?'

He heard a calm voice from behind which sent shivers down his spine. He didn't know what was supposed to scare him more: The fact that doors in this man's house seemed to lock themselves or the fact that he was stuck with the occupant.

Harry decided that the latter was definitely worse. His bottom lip began trembling and for the first time he could ever remember, he wished to be back with the Dursleys. If he couldn't be with Tom, they were still better than this!

At least there he knew what to expect, there things weren't that scary. Certainly, Uncle Vernon had had his mood swings, too. But they had been predictable and somehow always followed a certain routine. Here, everything was different.

Slumped to the floor and with his back pressed against the massive door, he warily eyed the Potions Master who had started to make his way around the dining table and was approaching him slowly now. Harry shut his eyes and a tear ran down his cheek. Desperately he wished to be somewhere else and started to rock back and forth gently.

'I will have none of your attitude in my house, Mr. Potter!' the young man said sternly. At least he didn't scream anymore. To his own dismay, he realised that his voice seemed a tinge nicer.

Severus couldn't help but feel inadequate. Surely he had planned to handle matters a little more _elegantly_ and not to let his emotions carry him away. But somehow too many undesirable feelings flooded him, making him short-tempered and rather… _out of control._

And how was he supposed to deal with a traumatised nine-year-old? Being honest with himself, he had hoped the boy would behave more grown up. Having heard the headmaster speak of him with such praise and awe he had expected (and dreaded) a prodigy. He hadn't considered the possibility that he was actually just dealing with a nine-year-old. And even worse, an abused nine-year-old who possessed advanced magic beyond control.

He could handle eleven-year-olds who came to his classes at Hogwarts, but this was different. They were more grown up and also they knew their place. They respected him. And they weren't James Potter's boys.

 _Well do they really respect you or just fear you?_ The little voice in Severus' head whispered.

Angrily he wiped the thought away. This wasn't the right time for such contemplation. At the moment he had to take care of this impertinent child and Severus wasn't used to the fact that things weren't going his way.

And the boy was really testing his patience!

 _Why does he have to put up such a fight about every little thing?_ Severus thought.

Harry's bottom lip was still trembling and more tears ran down his cheeks. He hadn't spoken a single word yet.

' _Maybe_ …' Severus strained himself saying this. 'Maybe... I should have explained beforehand what we will do.'

Severus leaned back against the dining table and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Then, with a sigh, he realised that a bit of body language might support his actions and slowly let his hands sink to either side of his body until they touched the table.

'First I will heal your injuries to ensure that you are well and able to settle in properly. Then we will attend to your training.'

Harry didn't as much as move, eying the stick in the man's hands warily. He wondered whether this man carried his stick it around with him all the time. Probably he had already been told how horrible Harry was.

Misinterpreting the child's frustrated expression, Severus' nerves ebbed away quickly.

'I am giving you one last chance to comply with my rules. You will do as I say. NOW.'

A few seconds passed. It wasn't much, but it sufficed to make something inside Severus' mind snap when the child still disregarded his direct orders so blatantly. With an angry glare he raised his wand and yanked the boy towards him by his arm, determined to bring this ridiculous situation to an end and finally regain some control.

'NOOOOOO!' Harry screamed.

A second later, Severus found himself being blasted backwards, hitting the dining table forcefully. Jumping to his feet at once, he approached the boy again who was now cowering on the floor, screaming on top of his lungs. He was thrashing his legs and arms violently against the stone wall and Harry's head came dangerously close to smashing into a nearby vase.

 _Stupefy!_ Severus shouted and a red beam of light shot at Harry. It bounced off his sphere and hit a large painting on one of the walls which now looked like it had been struck by lightning.

 _Incarcerous!_ Severus tried again, but the ropes that were meant to restrain the boy and keep him from injuring himself just rebounded once they hit the surface of Harry's shield and missed his own head by a hair's breadth! Then the boy collapsed.

x x x

 _You are safe here. Nothing will happen to you._

Harry felt relieved. Back in his invisible world, he could make out the walls of the living room and this rather irate man trying to reach him. But his protective barrier wasn't betraying him!

Relaxing slowly, Harry drew his knees up to his chest and flung his arms around them. Hugging them closely, he looked through the silvery barrier that made everything behind it appear somewhat blurry and surreal. For a moment, he thought that he saw some red sparks and flashes of light bounce off his sphere, but maybe this intriguing sight was just a trick of his mind. From his side of the sphere, it looked very beautiful.

Somewhere in his head he imagined to be hearing Mr. Snape's voice, commanding to stop this at once.

 _Stop what?_

He hadn't done anything. He was safe here. And the other man couldn't come through! Here, Harry was in charge, it was that simple.

Yet, bitter thoughts formed in Harry's mind. What had happened anyway? Why was suddenly everybody acting so strangely around him? For years and years he had been left in the belief that he was the _freak_ , unworthy of being treated like anyone else, and now, in one day, he had met a man who 'Apparated' from here to there and another one who gave him weird medicine and had, on top of that, self-locking doors in his house! Not to speak of the moving pictures, although he was quite fond of those...

Again, Harry heard the commanding voice but contentedly found that it grew fainter as it was being replaced by another higher voice.

' _Don't you want to let him in, honey?'_ it said softly. _  
_

Harry looked around – he couldn't make out were that voice was coming from, but it was so nice, comforting, spreading such warmth... He didn't want it to go away! Maybe talking to it would make it stay.

' _Who are you?'_ Harry tried cautiously.

' _Honey, you know who I am. You are all right here and you are safe.'_

' _I know,'_ Harry replied a little crossly, not having a clue who he was talking to. _'But not thanks to that guy.'_

He made a dismissive gesture towards the hallway door. Even through his misty silver sphere, he could make out its blurry outlines and saw that its wings were wide-opened.

' _He wants to help you,''_ the voice answered.

' _How do you know?'_

' _I just do,'_ the voice replied a tinge sadder.

' _What do you mean, you know?'_ Harry asked.

' _Honey, look at him. He is scared just as you are. He is not a bad person, but this is all new to him as it is new to you, too.'_

Harry had to think about that for a while. He really hadn't thought about it this way. All he had seen was an irate and completely unfair stranger who changed his behaviour more rapidly than Uncle Vernon could make up reasons to get mad at him.

' _Well,'_ Harry pondered, _'I am here because he is supposed to help me. I can't see how he will do that, though. I don't know myself what's happening! I don't even know who I am talking to right now! Why can't you tell me?'_

He clenched his fists as desperation started to overrule his curiosity.

' _You already know, trust me, honey,'_ the voice encouraged him, but Harry found that this information didn't help at all.

Harry looked around once more, desperately trying to make out who was talking to him, but there was no one to be seen, no matter how hard he looked. His sphere had closed in on him while he had been talking and while he had calmed down considerably. Tentatively he touched the silver barriers, running his fingers through the misty liquid which left his hands completely dry.

' _That guy was trying to get at me!'_ Harry argued. _'How am I supposed to trust him?'_

' _Honey, please listen to me. You need to be a big boy now and you will realise that this is working two ways – he also has to learn that he can trust you. He is not as different from you as you may think. This is very difficult for him.'_

With that the voice disappeared. Breathing more heavily, Harry tried to get up, stretching out his hands as if to grab hold of the voice to make it stay, but it was no use. It had gone.

x x x

Harry looked around and realised that the room was deserted. Allowing his barrier to drop a little, he looked at every corner, making sure that this man wasn't hiding somewhere. With one last rush of warmth, he felt a surge of energy spread through his body and the remaining silvery vapours of his sphere vanished into thin air.

A second later, a jolt shot through him and Harry clasped his hands to his head, moaning in pain. Again it felt like all energy had been drained from his body and he felt so tired. Ignoring the warm liquid pouring down his fingers and staining his clothing red, he smiled exhaustedly and sunk into a deep trance. Then, all fell silent.

Cautiously Severus re-entered the room.

He was shaken.

Nothing he had said or done had made the boy stop thrashing around. None of his spells had worked! The strange feeling of insecurity due to the betrayed trust in his abilities was competing with his building curiosity.

The boy had produced this sphere, a magical barrier, strong enough to fend off a fully trained wizard!

Sure, the headmaster had told him, but to observe it for himself, and so quickly, was quite something different. He had expected some exaggeration on Dumbledore's side or maybe weeks of necessary prodding and shoving until the boy displayed his so-called special talent or anything out of the ordinary Severus could work with.

If it weren't for the fact that it was the Potter Boy he was talking about, he'd probably have acknowledged the extraordinary skill the child possessed.

Yet Severus noticed how easily his actions had triggered the boy to flee into his sphere. Regarding the loss of energy Harry had suffered, this surely couldn't work out long for him if he kept establishing this sphere on a regular base without really having any control over it.

In lack of any other ideas, Severus had been forced to leave the room before the boy had calmed down. Harry had hurt himself while thrashing on the floor and his head wound had started bleeding again. But nothing Severus had done had worked for the boy. Only when he had retreated and had observed the scene from the hallway, the boy had calmed down eventually. It seemed like he had been talking. He had rocked back and forth, his lips forming words without actually speaking though.

 _Was he muttering spells to maintain his sphere?_

Severus shook the thought off at once. _No, that wasn't possible. How was the boy supposed to know such advanced magic, let alone perform it?_ According to the headmaster, he hadn't even been aware of the fact that he was a wizard until recently.

It had taken a few moments after Severus had moved out of sight, but finally the boy had started to relax. It seemed like the shield was draining his energy and Severus was sure – if he hadn't left the room, the boy would have maintained it until he ran out of energy completely.

Severus was deep in thought as he approached the unconscious boy who now lay on the floor next to the fireplace, his forehead covered in blood that was flowing over his hair and ears in a small red trail.

Pointing his wand at the boy's head, he closed the wound with a muttered incantation. It stopped bleeding immediately.

 _Tergeo_ Severus said and immediately the blood from Harry's head, shirt and hands was sucked into his wand. Severus regarded his work for a moment, then he let his wand sink to his side.

 _Why the hell had the boy put up such a fight? He had just wanted to help him for crying out loud! Well, he had been a little harsh, true… but still, how was he supposed to get through to the boy?_

 _You know why,_ the little voice inside Severus' head noticed smugly. _E_ _specially_ you _should be able to understand, don't you think?_

Annoyed, Severus realized that he found himself in this uncomfortable inner conversation more often now, ever since Dumbledore had barged into his study and kindly asked to have a word with him. And he didn't like it at all.

Shrugging the thought off he regarded the boy, refusing to give his inner voice any credit at all.

 _There was a reason why he shut out these emotions! And he was going to keep it this way!_

Severus looked at the boy's face. It was a matter of seconds to remove those bruises, but something was holding him back. It wasn't a lack of proper spells or ability, but rather a feeling telling him not to. Giving the boy potions had been his first choice. They always worked. But obviously, this time things were different with the boy and pouring more potions down his throat while he was unconscious was probably not going to help with the outstanding conversations.

Severus wasn't sure how he was supposed to talk to Harry about what had happened to him – but he knew that making all the signs of the past days disappear would only deny the problem, not solve it. Whatever had happened – as usual Dumbledore hadn't really been generous with details – he just knew that something _bad_ had to have happened that had triggered the boy to produce his protective sphere for the first time.

 _You didn't want to hear_ , the little voice intoned sweetly. _He was going to tell you and you threw him out. You still don't cope.  
_

 _Shut up!_ Severus thought. If he was going to learn about that sphere, he had to learn why and when the boy felt the need to produce it in order to be able to control it.

Once more he raised his wand and transfigured one of the leather chairs into a small bed with a few cushions and a bed spread. With one hand he held Harry's head and grabbed the other arm around his waist, hoisting him onto the bed carefully. Not bothering with the boy's clothing or shoes, Severus simply pulled the bedspread up to Harry's chin and sat back on one of the remaining chairs, contemplating.

The great clock on the wall chimed the full hour and after a while repeated its routine. Severus hadn't let his gaze off the child until it finally started to stir.

'Potter?'

 _Silence._

'Boy, wake up!'

Severus narrowed his eyes when Harry flinched violently being addressed like that.

Eyes still closed, the boy seemed completely unaware of his surroundings, mumbling incomprehensible words.

'Please don't… please,' he muttered.

'Potter, what are you ranting on about?' Severus asked, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

'No please, I am sorry… so sorry… just don't… '

'Don't what?'

Slowly inching towards the makeshift bed, Severus tried to keep his voice calm. The boy didn't take any notice of him at all.

'Please… It wasn't my fault… I'll be good, please...' he muttered.

'What wasn't your fault?' Severus asked, intrigued now.

Harry started blinking and opened his eyes, only to back away and hit the bed post behind him when he realised that firstly, he was not in his own bed and secondly, not even in his house but in the presence of a complete stranger whom he had thirdly, briefly mistaken for his enraged uncle.

Slowly, memories came back to Harry and instinctively he drew the bedspread up to his chin and cowered forcefully against the bedhead. He couldn't understand why he had been sleeping in this bed or where it had come from so suddenly in the first place. After all, it was standing in the dining room, squashed in between the fireplace and the dining table and he was sure that it had not been standing there when the old man had left.

'It appears that we started on the wrong foot,' the man opposite to him said. His voice was even and controlled. 'I am... _sorry_...that I frightened you. That was not my intention. Understood?'

Harry nodded.

'Do you know what just happened?'

Harry tried to think of an explanation, but actually he didn't know how he had done it. It was like something inside him had _wanted_ it. He had just wanted to feel safe, be left alone in his comforting world, and he certainly didn't want _that_ guy to be part of it!

 _But I can't tell him that,_ Harry thought.

Although he wasn't sure how he'd done it, he was certain that now he was in trouble. He felt absolutely horrible and didn't know which was worse: the feeling of energy being sucked out of his body or the absolute lack of understanding of what he had done yet again to produce his magical sphere.

Slowly he shook his head and timidly watched for the man's reaction who looked at him with his dark eyes.

'Do you want to know what happened?' the man finally asked.

 _What?_

Satisfied with the intrigued expression on the boy's face, Severus continued with his plan.

'I think that I might be able to tell you a little more about your abilities and what has happened. I think that it is nothing to worry about, once you know what is happening and why. I can answer your questions if you have any and I am sure you do, but in return I want you to answer some questions I have. Do you understand what I am saying?'

 _Nod._

'So, do you agree?'

Another long silence followed. Severus sighed.

'I can assure you that no child has ever possessed the ability to rival my perseverance.'

When a confused look appeared on the child's face, he added

'You don't have to think that you can simply out-silence me. I taught you my rules. In my house, you will answer when I ask you a question. In return, I will answer your questions.'

Having said this, he leaned back, crossed his arms in front of his chest and watched the boy intently.

 _At least the anger in the man's voice had disappeared,_ Harry thought. _But why was he so frightening? So like Uncle Vernon? One moment he'd be all nice and calm – intriguingly calm – and the next moment he'd scream and come running at you ready to get at you for no reason whatsoever!_

Harry hung his shoulders and grabbed the panther's fang for solace. He wanted to be back with Tom, back with someone nice, someone who cared... Tears welled up in his eyes again.

Severus sighed. This kid wasn't going to beat him when it came to stubbornness. But why was his mind betraying him? Usually his intellect found an elegant solution to a problem within moments, no matter what challenge lay ahead of him. But here everything was so different. Here smart didn't get you anywhere.

'As long as you stay in my house,' he finally said, 'I want you to be honest and respectful. I guess I didn't make it particularly easy for you.'

Being perfectly honest with himself, Severus found that this was stretching the truth quite a bit. He found that he _had_ been very nice, for his standards.

Taking a deep breath Severus continued, refusing to go all soft but trying to stick to his tactics. He needed to make the boy feel safe – at least safe enough to avoid creating his impenetrable sphere again.

'I guess many things are new to you here, so I should have explained first. Do you understand?'

 _Nod._

'I was going to give you something which we call potions. These potions were specifically dosed to heal your injuries and rid you of all pain.'

At this, the boy slowly looked up into the dark eyes that were still watching him intently.

'It was a very powerful medicine. I know you are not used to potions. They are more efficient than anything else you might have had before. They don't just make the symptoms go away, they cure the illness and heal the injuries right away - instantly, so to speak. Do you understand the concept?'

Again, the boy nodded.

'I was mistaken when dosing your potions because I _thought_ I had a good idea of the extent of your injuries. The potions were supposed to heal the laceration on your forehead and the bruises in your face as well as whatever has happened to your wrist. These potions don't have any side effects, but can be dangerous when not brewed or dosed correctly. I was worried when the desired effect didn't show – your injuries are still visible to me. And I am most certain that I did not make a mistake when brewing it. Do you understand what that means?'

Hesitantly, Harry nodded. His stomach had knotted painfully. Harry had known he was in trouble from the moment the man had started talking. He was really just like Uncle Vernon. He would start on the lighter side, talk in a calm and friendly way, lure Harry into a false sense of security and get him to the point where he wanted him. Then Harry would have to answer stupid questions and practically admit that it had been him who screwed up and who had done something wrong.

Somehow, Uncle Vernon had always gotten so much satisfaction out of those tactics, humiliating him like that. And when he had had him at that point, exactly where he wanted him, Harry had to admit that he ultimately deserved to be punished. Uncle Vernon had never wanted to just punish Harry. He had wanted him to ask for it.

Harry's initial fear turned into frustration, then frustration into anger. He couldn't believe that he had fallen for that again.

Severus noticed how Harry had balled his fists and pressed his lips together tightly now.

 _What the hell had he said now? Hadn't he just tried to make up with him and explain? And now he was rewarded with this insolent stubborn glare?  
_

Severus felt some of his earlier anger return and decided to intervene before he lost control again. Rising from his seat to leave the room, he instantly regretted his action though for the boy had backed into the bedhead again, his eyes wide-eyed. With a sigh Severus realised that obviously, he couldn't do or say a single thing which didn't make the boy feel threatened and added

'We will talk about this later. I will show you your room now. Obviously it won't do for you to stay and sleep in my living room, so if you would please follow me!'

With that he turned around and left without looking back, taking the shuffling noise behind him as a clear indication that the boy was obeying him for once.

They moved up several staircases and passed many pictures hanging in the corridors. Harry couldn't help but feel distracted. Everything – really _everything_ – was moving in them.

This time they passed pictures with people in it. They were actually following his movement, gazing at him intently. Some excitedly whispered to each other. Harry couldn't read their expressions, but was too impressed to do or say anything either. _If it weren't for the scary Mr. Snape, the manor would be quite an awesome place to live in,_ Harry thought.

By the time they reached the top floor of the manor, Harry doubted that he could even remember his way back down to the living room, let alone the bathroom which had been pointed out to him on their way up.

'This,' Severus began, opening the door to a small yet generously lit room which lay right next to his master's bedroom, 'will be your bedroom for the time being.'

He stepped inside and waited for the boy to follow. Harry took a look around and tentatively walked towards the windows. He didn't care that he had a big bed, a table, even stationary and a wardrobe which seemed to offer a variety of clothing for him or even the fact that his pillowcase had been brought up here, lying shunned in a corner – all he was interested in was the view he had.

He could see the forest in the distance, a lake, vast fields, and best of all – no boards nailed across the window!

But Harry's excitement quickly turned into sadness. Everything could be so nice here, if only Tom were here instead of that weird man. Even Aunt Petunia would have been the better choice for once! That Mr. Snape scared him, and Harry knew that he was in trouble with him. He had annoyed him and then – just like Uncle Vernon – this man was going to make him admit that he was the _freak_ who had messed up and got himself into trouble. And then, he was going to punish him.

A snapping sound brought Harry back to reality. Turning around he looked at the young man who had watched him intently.

For a brief moment, Harry had imagined a smile on the man's face, but surely he had imagined it for his stern gaze was firmly in place.

 _Probably he was enjoying this,_ Harry thought bitterly. _Yeah, you are just like Uncle Vernon, aren't you? With all that sneering and glaring and changing your behaviour a thousand times a minute!_

Snapping his fingers once more, Severus made sure to have Harry's undivided attention.

'It's quite late already. We won't make 7 p.m. for dinner, so I suggest you unpack and settle in. Then we'll have a quick supper and talk.

 _Yeah right, 'talk',_ Harry thought angrily, annoyed that this man's behaviour was showing more and more similarities to Uncle Vernon's the longer he stayed.

'Just get it over with then!' Harry finally snapped, defiantly holding Severus' gaze.

'Mr. Potter, I don't know what you are talking about,' Severus started, his brows raised high, but he was interrupted again.

'My name is Harry. HARRY! GET IT?' Harry screamed.

Enraged he started kicking the table next to his bed which started shaking lightly. He completely lost it now and for the first time this day, he was acting like a distressed nine-year-old who was desperately trying to get rid of the pressure and pain that had built up constantly since things had started to change and unsettle his life forever.

'Harry!' Severus shouted before stepping aside when an ink bottle came flying his way, accompanied by an utmost look of resentment on the child's face.

'THERE!' Harry screamed. 'There you go! Come on, get it over with! At least you've got a reason now!'

His mouth opened, Severus was at a loss and regarded the child that seemed in search of something else to throw.

'Don't even think about it!' Severus ordered sternly, realisation only dawning on him when the child had backed into the wall again, grabbing his necklace forcefully, tears streaming down his face.

 _Was the child really thinking...?_

Taking a step back, he grabbed the door handle, desperate for advice.

'Calm down! I will be back in half an hour and get you for supper.'

With that, Severus stepped into the hallway and closed the door, ignoring the screamed desperate protests of the child to just come back inside and get it over with. Running his hands through his hair, Severus wondered what he was supposed to do with the boy.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he rested his hands on his eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths until the sound of bursting glass caught his attention, followed by an awkward silence.

x x x


	13. Dead Ends

Hi dear all and welcome back. I am glad that you are enjoying the story so far. Thank you for all your awesome reviews, too. It makes me happy to hear that you like the story. Now this wasn't really an easy start for any of the boys.. but despite his struggles, Severus is trying very hard. And what does Harry think of that?

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 13 – Dead Ends**

Severus' heart sank at the sound of shattering glass.

 _The little brat couldn't have been that stupid, could he?_

Whirling around, he nearly broke down the door as he rushed back into the room, wand at the ready. As the door busted open, Severus could see one of the big windows next to the writing desk completely broken. Some shards lay on the floor, but most of it appeared to have fallen to the other side. Harry was nowhere to be seen.

Crossing the space to the window in quick strides, Severus steeled himself for what he might see once he leaned out of the window. After all, this was the fourth floor.

Severus held his breath and leaned over the windowsill, searching the area below. It seemed that there were some more shards lying on the ground and a rather large object, though it was far too small to be the boy! As he squeezed his eyes, trying to make out what was lying there, Severus perceived a muffled but yet audible sniff. It didn't come from outside, though, but from inside this room.

Turning around, he scanned the room and there it was again. He now faced the bed which appeared to be untouched. Wand firmly gripped with his right hand, he pointed it towards the bed and withdrew the sheets with the other, crouching down to get a good look underneath.

His grip relaxed marginally at the sight of the frightened but apparently unharmed ball which had curled up in the far corner.

'Harry,' he said in the softest tone he could produce (at least a bystander would have acknowledged that it sounded like he wouldn't kill the boy instantly). 'You will come out there at once.'

Severus wasn't sure if he had expected this, but the boy didn't move a muscle.

'I will count to three and you will come forward,' he said, feeling his patience ebbing away again in this unfamiliar loss of control. _He didn't even know why he felt so shaken!_

Nothing happened.

'One.'

'Two.'

The slightest stir.

'Thr...'

'Wait…' It was barely a whisper.

And then, as if in slow motion, the little ball uncurled and started to crawl towards him. Taking a few steps back, Severus tried to encourage Harry's behaviour. He didn't want to close in on him too soon - afraid to scare him into his protective sphere again - but the boy kept coming closer. He had crept towards Severus, eyes downcast, until he could look at the man's shoes.

'I am sorry.' Again his whisper was barely audible as the boy spoke to Severus' feet.

Wand still in one hand, Severus managed to force a 'What?' but was too irritated by the boy's drastic change in behaviour to hide his confusion.

Harry was now lying at his feet, his small hands reaching for his shoes submissively. Severus backed away a step in repulsion.

Then the boy spoke quietly.

'I know I've been bad. I am a _freak_ and you have to put up with me.'

 _What?_

'Please don't. I know I deserve it. But please don't, I'll just do it myself.'

Gasping, Severus thought Harry had lost his mind. The boy must have confused him with his uncle, probably because he had either said or done something strongly resembling him. But Harry hadn't put up a sphere like he did in the living room earlier, so how was this different?

What on earth was the child planning to do? Hadn't the boy just thrown a perfect temper-tantrum and smashed a window practically asking for a thrashing? And the next moment, nothing of that rebellious behaviour seemed to be left. What was he supposed to make of this?

Severus shoved his wand back up his sleeve and crouched down, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and started shaking him lightly as if trying to shake whatever was obviously possessing the boy out of him.

'Look at me,' he pressed, but the boy only screwed his face in pain, obviously anticipating the first blows to come any second.

Giving Harry another little shake, Severus repeated sternly

'Look at me at once!'

When no blows came, Harry opened one eye the tiniest bit to see why nothing was happening.

 _This was all wrong._

Opening the other eye, too, he stared at the man's chest.

'Harry,' the voice spoke again. He could only feel the firm grip around his shoulders.

'Look at me. Do I look like your uncle?'

Cautiously Harry's gaze moved upwards until he met the dark eyes of his new guardian.

 _This was just wrong. No one knew their secret. Just Uncle Vernon and Harry did. He'd been so sure that it was him._

x x x

' _I will count to three and you will come forward at once!'_ Vernon had bellowed. Harry only pushed himself further into the wall as he hid underneath his bed, wishing he could disappear altogether.

Uncle Vernon had been mad all day. His behaviour had been erratic and unforeseeable, although Harry wasn't even sure what he had done wrong in the first place. Aunt Petunia was out with Dudley and he had been completing his chores, trying to stay out of sight. But apparently nothing he had done had sufficed. Uncle Vernon was mad and just needed someone to take it out on.

Harry had always thought that it was bad to wait and know what was coming. It was even worse than being thrashed, for that had to be over at some point. Just waiting and dreading the moment when the explosion was inevitable was the most tormenting thing Harry could imagine, so he usually started to provoke his uncle when it became unbearable. Then, Uncle Vernon couldn't put off his anger any longer, and then it'd be over.

But as theory works well in thought and in thought only, Harry had regretted his actions as soon as his uncle had finally snapped and came charging at him. Being small and agile, he had been much quicker and fled to his room to hide underneath the bed. He heard Uncle Vernon puffing up the stairs, each step groaning under his massive weight as he made his way to Harry's room.

Purple-faced and completely out of breath, Vernon had leaned down and tried to grasp Harry with his fleshy hands, but his arms had been too short.

Enraged by his lack of reach, he had started to pull the bed away from the wall. It was too heavy to move much, but Vernon had lifted it enough to pinch Harry's fingers. He screamed in pain, finally managing to pull his hands away from the bed post that had trapped his hand so unexpectedly.

' _You will come out here at once,'_ Vernon had repeated, the purple colour of his face slowly changing into a menacing shade of blue as if he was about to suffocate. _'I will count to three and boy, you will be sorry if you haven't come out of there by then.'_

Harry understood perfectly fine that he already was in trouble, so how could this be any worse? He'd felt sick all day, knowing that Uncle Vernon was going to get at him at some point and had hoped that it would be over quickly. But now that he was here, he just wished to appease the man and make his anger go away.

' _Please, Uncle Vernon,'_ he had started pleading. _'Please don't be mad, I am sorry, I will be better!'_ But it was no good. Suddenly he couldn't see his uncle anymore. The bedspread had slipped from the bed as it had been shifted and was blocking Harry's view completely now. Harry strained himself to hear a sound, but couldn't make out where his uncle was. He carefully inched forwards, when suddenly an iron grip closed around his neck, dragging him from underneath the bed and slamming him hard into the opposite wall. Then Uncle Vernon had slapped him with his other hand across the face.

Harry couldn't even gasp, his windpipe compressed by the brute force of the fat hand retching him. Blood was flowing from a cut on Harry's bottom lip. Flailing his hands and feet, he tried to get away but couldn't even reach the floor as he was being held against the wall way above the ground. The last thing he remembered was his uncle's face coming very close to his own. Uncle Vernon breathed heavily into Harry's ear and Harry thought he was going to be sick from the disgusting smell of alcohol and sweat his uncle carried.

 _'Let's count,'_ his uncle whispered into his ear. _'_ _One: Your mother was a freak, she didn't deserve to live and she died. Two: Your father was a freak, he didn't deserve to live and he died, too. Three: You are a freak. Guess what happens next?'_

Harry heard a last menacing laugh as beefy fingers tightened their grip around his throat, then he passed out.

x x x

'Do I look like your uncle?'

Harry blinked, shaken out of his flashback.

'Look at me,' Severus urged, leaning in very close on Harry as if he thought that the boy would at least see Severus' obvious lack of resemblance to that walrus of an uncle in close-up. But contrary, it only seemed to make things worse.

'No, no!' Harry had started crying now, squirming and trying to loosen the now painful grip around his shoulders. He tried to back away but felt himself unable to withdraw from his guardian.

'I will let go if you look at me,' Severus pressed.

Slowly Harry looked up and felt the pressure around his shoulders diminish instantly. Taking a step backwards he hugged his arms around his chest and started rocking back and forth.

' _What_ will you do to yourself?' Severus asked sternly.

'It's the only way,' Harry whispered and another tear ran down his cheek quietly. 'It's the only way.'

'What on earth are you talking about?' Severus asked, now completely nonplussed.

 _The child had gone lunatic. Definitely._

Harry tilted his head oddly and leaned forward again, as if going to confide something very secret to him. Unconsciously Severus held his breath and mirrored the boy's movement.

'That's how it works,' Harry whispered as his guardian's hooked nose nearly touched his forehead.

'My mum was a freak and she died.'

Severus jerked his head back, as if trying to take in the whole picture, but Harry only nodded seriously.

'My dad was a freak and he died, too.'

Harry nodded sadly now. Severus was too perplexed to say anything at all.

'And here I am, a freak, just like Mom and Dad,' Harry breathed and shoved his hands down the pockets of his new jeans.

Some moments passed in which neither Harry nor Severus seemed to be willing to speak. When his guardian didn't cotton on to what Harry was trying to say, he added

'It's my turn now.'

Severus hadn't seen it coming. In an instant, the boy jerked his right hand out of his pocket and brought it forth. He was gripping the handle of a blade firmly and raised it to his heart.

Severus jerked his wand from his sleeve and cried _Expelliarmus_! With a ting the scalpel flew out of Harry's hand and landed next to the desk with another metallic chink.

x x x

Trying to take in the bizarre situation, Severus made a few tentative steps towards Harry who hadn't moved a muscle yet. He seemed to regard his own hand with mild surprise which was still awkwardly suspended in mid-air. Severus took a few more steps towards the boy when he still didn't move.

When Severus stood right before Harry, he carefully reached for his hand and pressed it against the boy's chest, closing the little fist around his necklace. When he let go of the boy's hand, Severus found that he didn't let go of his fang.

Slowly, Harry's lips moved, but no words left his mouth. Severus leaned in closer to the boy who seemed to be frowning now. Finally he was able to make out what the child was saying.

'Why don't you want me dead?' Harry breathed.

Deep green shimmering eyes were looking at Severus and painful memories hit his heart. Severus could only shake his head slowly, his mouth hanging open.

'Why don't you want me dead?' the boy asked again but the question seemed to be directed at no one in particular.

Closing his mouth again, Severus slowly retreated and took a seat on the chair next to the writing desk, breathing out heavily. He had to get the boy to talk sense again!

 _This was ridiculous! And where the hell had this knife come from?_

 _He was going to kill the headmaster..._

Running his hands through his long hair, Severus said nothing for a couple of minutes. Then he looked up to the boy who had watched him carefully.

'Listen closely,' Severus said and for the first time it didn't sound cold or distant, but oddly truthful. 'Whatever you just tried to make me do or do to yourself. I can assure you that I do _not_ want you dead. I want to help you. I will not harm you.'

Big green eyes surveyed him carefully and Severus couldn't remember that he had ever felt being scrutinized like this by a child, let alone most adults he knew.

'No?'

'No.'

'Don't you want to hit me?' Harry asked.

'No.'

'Maybe you want to kick me?' he tested carefully.

'NO!'

'And you don't want me dead?'

'Why the hell would I want you dead?'

'Because I can feel that you hate me,' Harry whispered.

Then there was a long silence again.

x x x

Vernon was sitting in his chair and tried to ignore his smarting head. Somehow he couldn't remember a lot of the last day's events. There were bits and pieces of memory which crossed his mind, but nothing tangible. It was like a tv show one watches in passing. You realise that something happened and get a general idea of what it was, but you couldn't retell it.

He remembered that he had had a couple of drinks. Well, maybe even some more. And he remembered that he had been mad at the boy. Mad as hell. Also another memory tried to make its way to the surface of his consciousness in which his nephew had returned home with a stranger who had threatened him. He couldn't remember for sure though.

 _Where the hell is the boy?_ Vernon had wondered when his brain had managed to string together at least some impressions to form a coherent thought.

He wasn't used to the fact that no one was around to be the target of his frustrations. Not even his wife or Dudley were anywhere to be seen and that wasn't like Petunia. She knew that he hated it not to be informed and she definitely would have left a note.

 _Hadn't she left a note?_

Vernon had been searching the house with a feeling of déjà vu, but he had only realised two things. First, there wasn't a note to be found. Second, everybody was gone.

In a fit of ingenuity, he had checked for their suitcases and sure enough they were gone. Even the two or three filthy rags the boy had obtained during the last years were nowhere to be found.

 _Petunia wouldn't have left with the boys,_ Vernon thought. _Well, the boy and the freak that is._

Taking a detour to the cabinet on his way back to his chair, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and heaved his heavy features into the groaning furniture. His mind was more clouded than usual when he had drunken a lot. Usually he would have a terrible headache (check) and blackouts (check). But this time it was different and he had no idea why.

Immerged in his thoughts, he didn't realise that the footsteps in the front yard were drawing closer to the house.

x x x

'I do not hate you,' Severus whispered after what felt like an endless silence.

 _You lie,_ Harry thought.

'No, I don't.'

Wide-eyed, Harry looked up to his new guardian.

 _Had he just heard his thoughts?_

 _No,_ Harry thought, _probably this wasn't hard to guess._ Then a breeze hit his face. A breath of air was accompanied by the last sunrays of the day and he couldn't help but admire the beautiful (and so completely unshielded) scenery outside his room.

Severus had racked his mind how to proceed. Everything he had tried had gone so awfully wrong. Being stern had frightened the boy. Being lenient had made the boy suspicious (and Severus uncomfortable for this matter).

And still there was something else. Severus felt uneasy about how quickly he had lost his temper today. He wasn't used to the fact that something was out of his control and that something could trigger him to act angrily so quickly.

Years of practice and bad experiences had taught him to keep control over his emotions _at any time_. He had learned not to let any feelings betray what he felt or thought. It had been so crucial for his survival in those years. Why did his ability to shrug everything off betray him now?

 _You know why,_ his little voice noted. _And unless you start to think about it again, you won't regain control over the situation either!_

Resisting the urge to shrug his unnerving voice off again and risk to scare the boy, Severus opted for doing nothing. How did you silence a voice that kept offering unsolicited advice when it was your own subconsciousness you were talking to?

Not ready to deal with the whole issue that was too messed up to be sorted out in one night, Severus decided to get on with other necessary things which promised easier handling and would also provide some day-to-day-routine at last.

Severus thought that maybe it was best tactics not to comment on the dramatic events that had just happened in order to keep the boy from producing his magical sphere again if he felt pressured by this kind of talk. But what if the boy pondered on suicide thoughts again? Or did something stupid, again? _Anything_ stupid.

Uncertain what would be the right move, Severus decided that with the necessary safety precautions they would have to work it out in due time.

'Look at me,' he began, but the boy hadn't let his gaze off his new guardian.

'Whatever it is that made you think that you have to die. Please be assured that this is not the case. Quite contrary, you are here to learn how to protect yourself. I will make sure that nothing will happen to you and that you learn how to use your abilities to your own advantage.'

The boy didn't as much as blink, but Severus took the remaining eye contact as a sign that the child was listening closely.

'Can we please agree on something while you are here?' Severus asked and Harry's stare turned into a look of mild interest.

'I need to be certain that you will never to anything to harm yourself again. Whatever it was that triggered that idea, I am sorry, but I can't work with you if I get the impression that anything I say or do just sets you off. If something like that happens, just let me know. If you need a break, want some rest, whatever it is. I am fine, as long as you don't do something that stupid again!'

His voice had grown angrier during the last seconds and content, Severus realised that the effect was not missed by the child.

 _Well, to me it sounded worried,_ Severus' little voice commented smugly.

Severus' eyes became small slits and the boy became alert instantly.

'You are hungry.' Severus stated.

It seemed easier not to phrase any more questions at the moment which would certainly only lead to more struggles. Maybe telling they boy what to do or what to _feel_ would work for the moment.

'As I said, usually supper will be at 7 p.m.,' Severus started. 'Today has been very busy and I will make an exception for you. I will have my House El… I will have some dinner prepared and we will eat in the dining hall. It will be a good chance for you to find your way through this house and get acquainted with everything.'

Harry nodded, still eying the man suspiciously. _Maybe this was just another test. How else could the man not punish him for what he had just done?_

Another breeze reminded Severus that the window of the boy's bedroom was still broken. He drew out his wand (ignoring the boy's fearful expression at the sight of it) and made a fluent movement, whispering words Harry did not understand.

The shards rose from the ground and resumed their initial shape of the bedroom's window. Just for good measure and to avoid future shocks, Severus decided to put an Unbreakable Charm on the window and all the other windows in the manor for good measure.

'You may want to close your mouth, Harry.' Severus commented snidely when the boy didn't look fearful, but completely nonplussed now. 'It doesn't look very intelligent.'

Puzzled, Harry closed his mouth.

'Now, if you please accompanied me to the dining room.'

With this he turned around and started walking. The lack of shuffling little feet behind him made Severus turn around in indignation. The boy had stopped in front of a picture. The inhabitant, a young lady cradling a sleeping baby in her arms, was eying him with a mix of suspicion and compassion.

 _How funny these moving paintings are,_ Harry thought.

The next moment he looked up and his gaze met his new guardian. He didn't seem angry, but he didn't seem happy either. Hurrying, Harry made a few quick strides to catch up.

 _At least this man was somehow a bit more normal again now_ , Harry pondered.

Being all weird and unpredictable with those funny emotions, pretending to care, had been a new and unsettling experience for Harry. Receiving commands and orders and being sneered at on the other hand was more like it. Vernon modus, Harry understood.

Even before he had caught up, Severus had turned around and resumed walking to the dining room. Harry was sure that they weren't taking the same way downstairs as they had on their way up. He would never be able to remember all those staircases, doors and hallways!

In no time they were back in the dining room. The bed Harry had previously occupied had vanished and two chairs facing each other invited both to take a seat on the large dining table in between. Gesturing Harry which seat to take, Severus sat down on the other and snapped his fingers.

Immediately several plates and bowls with vegetables, meat, and potatoes appeared. Also a big drinking glass with water had materialised next to Harry's plate.

'Help yourself.' Snape commanded sternly, but the boy just looked up intrigued.

' _What_ it is now?' Severus asked irritably, but the boy just looked at his empty plate, eyes downcast.

 _Didn't the boy even know how to help himself? Certainly he was not going to serve him._

Helping himself to a large serving of vegetables, a small piece of meat, and some potatoes, Severus tried to ignore the boy for a while. He was half way through his dinner when he finally lost his patience.

He laid his fork down deliberately. The effect was not missed by the boy who had observed him closely during the last minutes.

'Why are you not eating?'

The boy held his gaze, but didn't answer.

'If you are under the impression that I might attempt to poison you with my cooking…' Severus began impatiently.

 _No. This was all wrong._

'…then you can be sure by now that it hasn't had any unpleasant effects on me and is therefore quite safe for you to eat as well.'

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again, afraid to say something wrong. Somehow this Mr. Snape didn't understand at all.

'What do you want to say?' Severus inquired. He leaned back and taking his drinking glass, he took a few sips of cold water, waiting for a good explanation for the boy's arrogant behaviour.

Harry didn't know how to put this. It had always been so obvious with the Dursleys.

Clearly, this man didn't know how things with him worked at all.

'I am not to eat before you are finished,' Harry recited carefully.

'And why is that, Mr. Potter?' Severus couldn't keep from addressing him like this although he didn't even know why.

 _Because it makes it easier for you to keep a distance to the boy,_ the unnerving voice piped up.

'That's the rule.' Harry continued, a little more confident now.

When it came to rules, especially Uncle Vernon's rules, he was good with them. It felt familiar and it was something he knew by heart.

'I can't remember that I set up a rule ordering you to let your dinner go cold,' Severus responded cynically.

'What?'

Placing his elbows on the dining table, Severus rested his head in his hands for a few seconds. Then he stroked his hair out of his face and stood up, causing the boy to back into his chair.

Severus had walked around the table and was now standing opposite to Harry, leaned forward with his hands on the table in front of Harry.

'You are hungry,' Severus stated sternly.

Harry nodded hesitantly.

'I had food prepared which is very nourishing for a growing boy your age.'

Now Harry's had hung.

'I didn't go through this trouble to see the food go cold because you won't touch it.'

Sadly, Harry nodded. Such reproaches he knew well.

Pulling the serving plate toward him, Severus grabbed some potatoes and a piece of meat, crushed it with loads of vegetables which he put on top and then plunked them onto Harry's plate. Then he pivoted on the spot and walked back to his seat. His robes would have billowed imperially while doing this, but remembering that he only wore black jeans, a leather belt and a black shirt, the desired effect stayed out.

Slowly Harry started to fork into his food. It tasted magnificent. But still…

 _This was all so wrong,_ Harry thought.

With Uncle Vernon, you had to wait until he had had his fourth serving. That was if Dudley had left him a fourth serving, digging in equally ravenously. Petunia would always help herself to a handful of vegetables and occasionally a piece of meat and watch her boys dig in while she minded her silhouette.

As for Harry… if he was allowed to sit on the table that was (which Uncle Vernon had allowed more often since he figured that it was much easier to make the boy miserable by having him watch him eat while his own stomach was grumbling), he had to wait until everybody was finished. Then, Petunia would take their plates and scrape everything that was left on to Harry's plate. He had a couple of minutes now to dig into the piles of vegetables Dudley had left while they had their pudding.

It was always a struggle for Dudley since he didn't want Harry to get his food, but wouldn't pay the price of eating that many vegetables himself, so usually there was at least something left for Harry. Soon Petunia would usher him into the kitchen to clean up the mess _he_ had caused.

And now it seemed that this man really wanted Harry to eat _with_ him.

Slowly, Harry worked his way through his dinner. Although it wasn't overly much, Harry's grumbling stomach started to protest when he had eaten a couple of potatoes and what seemed to be a week's worth of vegetables.

He just wasn't used to eating that much and soon his ravenous hunger turned into a sickening feeling. He kept prodding his food with the fork and ate obediently until he heard a deliberate cough from the other side of the table.

'I believe you are finished by now,' his guardian said.

Grateful, Harry put away his fork and stood up.

'Where do you think you are going?' Severus asked, his brows raised in suspicion.

 _Uhm._

Automatically Harry hat gotten up to clean up the mess he had caused. After all, this man hadn't been happy for him to be dumped at his home in the first place. He would be even less amused if he messed it up and caused him so much extra work.

Confused, Harry sat down again.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, (again the dramatic effect stayed out for the obvious lack of long billowing sleeves) Severus made the dirty dishes vanish and two small bowls with fruit appeared in front of them.

Annoyed, he realised that the boy was less than thrilled about the dessert he was being offered. Maybe the brat preferred chocolate pudding or some other sort of sweets, but he wasn't going to get any in this house! And especially not after those night's events!

Giving his new ward a stern look, he started eating his own fruits.

Harry copied him and was sure to throw up soon if he didn't stop eating. Absent-mindedly, he started rubbing his wrist which was still hurting. A wave of exhaustion washed over him once again.

Severus hadn't missed the gesture. Harry's eyelids grew heavier and heavier and with a sudden squishing sound, his head dropped into his bowl of fruits.

With a smirk, Severus got up from his place and walked towards Harry. Drawing his wand he had actually intended to levitate Harry to his bed upstairs, but standing in front of this pitiable boy now, somehow he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead he stowed his wand back into his sleeve and lifted Harry's face out of the bowl.

He muttered some inaudible words and the remnants of their dinner vanished from the boy's bruised face. Then he lifted the boy up, realising that he was as light as he had expected, given his tiny frame and carried the boy to his bedroom upstairs.

 _Sleep Potion,_ Severus thought. _Ingenious._

x x x


	14. Truths

Sorry for the late update. I had some important examinations coming up and got sick, too, which was really brilliant timing.. XD But here's the new chapter and it's extra long to make up for the wait. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 14 – Truths**

If there was anything Severus Snape could trust in unconditionally, it was his ability to brew a reliable potion. A Sleep Potion wasn't exceptionally difficult, but still it had worked and that was all that mattered. Also he had managed to combine it with a Dreamless Potion which was more his usual ingenious self. On their own they would work ideally but taste bad. Combined they usually had side effects or became ineffective. But this time, both seemed to have worked, and obviously tasted quite neutral.

Severus hoped that this way, the boy would be able to relax a little and sleep without having any nightmares.

The headmaster hadn't said anything, but at least Severus expected the boy to have nightmares.

 _That's what it was like back then,_ the little voiced commented.

 _Shut up,_ Severus replied.

Severus and his little bundle reached the small bedroom upstairs. The house elf had already lit a fire and it spread pleasant warmth in Harry's new bedroom. There the four-poster stood, inviting, covered with fresh sheets and a nice bedspread.

Placing him carefully on the bed, he regarded the small boy's stature. He looked very thin and fragile, even for a 9-year-old. He would have to make sure to feed him properly or the headmaster was bound to accuse him of deliberately starving the boy.

As if he needed to succumb to such low means to get rid of the Potter-boy... He would fulfil his duty as it had been imposed on him by the headmaster and then get rid of this inconvenience as quickly as possible.

Slowly, Severus drew his wand from his sleeve, ready to cast the spell Madame Pomfrey had shown him a long time ago, for a different reason though.

Back then he had had a nasty time spying for the Order. The Death Eaters had been more alert than usual and Voldemort liked to test his loyalty more often now. Regularly he had returned to his house from meetings, hardly alive and with nowhere to go. No one had cared. He had learnt to cast a spell upon himself, detecting all sorts of injuries, inflictions, damages and even (or especially) magical wounds in order to treat himself as best as he could with the potions he had learnt to prepare on a regular basis.

That's what it was all about. _Always be prepared_.

But this time was different. He hadn't known how to prepare himself or what for. He had been thrown together with this pitiable child, _James Potter's child,_ and then left alone.

Reaching out to perform the spell that had saved his own life so often, he suddenly felt something pulling at his sleeve. Startled he looked around, but obviously no one was here. No house elf would dare to disturb him and apart from that, he would have noticed somebody else's presence right away. At first he suspected the boy's impenetrable sphere, but he could neither see it, nor could the boy possibly produce it, being knocked out by his potion. _Or could he?_

' _Don't.'_

This was not _his_ inner voice. Furrowing his brow he lifted his wand hand again and again he heard a subtle whisper accompanied by the feeling of having his hand shoved away.

' _This isn't the right way.'_

Confused, Severus turned around, opened his mouth and then closed it again.

It couldn't possibly be true.

 _Not her voice._

' _You have done great so far, Severus,'_ she comforted, _'but this is not the right way. You have to gain his trust.'_

Startled Severus let his hand drop. Stowing his wand back into his sleeve, he took a few steps back, leaned against the wall next to the warm fireplace and started massaging his temples again.

Hearing the fire crackle was comforting and relaxing. He needed to think.

Somehow, whatever was protecting the boy (he couldn't bring himself to believe that Harry would actually do it himself and deliberately) seemed to be exceptionally aware of what was happening or being done.

He had considered it a clever move to knock out the boy with a potion and then perform the much needed diagnostic spells. He wouldn't have put the boy into the awkward situation of telling him himself what had happened. _If he ever did._

 _Awkward for him or for you?_ his own inner voice asked, starting to test his patience by now.

Slowly, Severus moved over to the boy and regarded him lying on the bed. His bruised face looked peaceful. If his potion worked, he wasn't dreaming at all and enjoying a relaxing eight-to-ten-hour nap now. Enough time for Severus to take a break and think about a lot of things.

One moment his eyes lingered on the panther's fang around Harry's neck and he thought about removing it so the boy couldn't hurt himself with it. Then, with a sigh, he withdrew his hand and turned around, leaving the necklace to the boy. He'd be sleeping for hours anyway.

x x x

The street was deserted and the sun had already set when Vernon Dursley looked out of his living room window. He must have fallen asleep in his chair. Although it hadn't been long (or had it?) he felt less nauseated and somehow his senses felt sharper than before. Maybe not as sharp as the senses of a regularly sober person, but alert enough to notice someone standing in the doorframe.

'Where is he?' the cold female voice hissed.

Vernon rifled through his thoughts and after several seconds, got up from his chair. Standing in the middle of the room, the weird feeling of presenting himself on a silver plate made its way through to him and even he realised that this wasn't good.

Another moment passed and the initial perplexity which had kept a question out of his mind vanished.

'WHO THE HELL ARE Y…' he started to shout, but was interrupted instantly. It felt like his voice had left him.

'I am asking the questions here,' the woman said coldly.

With a flick of her stick (Vernon refused to think of it as a wand), he was pushed back into his chair forcefully. A fraction of a second later, the woman's eyes levelled his. He even felt her heavy breathing on his skin.

'I will only ask one more time,' she said, deliberate, without any haste. A wild grin spread across her face.

'Where. Is. Harry. Potter?'

'I SAID WHO THE HELL ARE…' Vernon tried once more as he regained control over his tongue, resistant to learn from experience.

This time, he felt a slashing pain as if the woman had cut him with a knife instead of a _stick_. Blood was pouring from his fat cheek. His hand wandered to his face to examine the damage done, but was beaten away dismissively by the woman without any effort.

'Tell me, Vernon Dursley,' the woman resumed and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, 'Is the boy really worth dying for?'

'What are you talking about?' Vernon exclaimed.

This time he wasn't interrupted. His will to survive which had been stampeded successfully during the last few minutes by an oversized ego and loads of not so well thought through ideas had fought its way back up to the surface. Vernon's intellect lunged out for a brilliant stroke.

'Well, I have no idea where the boy is,' he began. 'But maybe I can help you find him.'

'You?' The woman spat. 'Help ME?'

Obviously, the desired effect had stayed out.

'The boy is in trouble,' Vernon continued. _If I could just remember why._ 'I am eager to find him as well.'

'Well,' the snide cold voice said, 'and how are _you_ going to find him if you can't remember a single thing?'

 _How did she know?_

A cold laugh interrupted the silence. The woman's eyes were bulging as she stepped closer to her victim, scrutinizing it carefully.

'Do you think that I can't tell when a memory charm has been placed upon someone? Even someone as stupid as you…'

'WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!' Vernon yelled, anger winning the upper hand again, but the woman just smiled cruelly.

'Not a single thing,' she whispered. 'And if you get lucky, it will stay this way. But for now, I need some answers.

 _INCARCEROUS!_ she shouted and with another wave of her wand thick ropes appeared, tying Vernon to his chair.

His eyes protruded dangerously as he fought against his bonds and found himself unable to move. Wide-eyed he watched as the woman drew up a chair in front of him, sat down and pointed her wand straight at his temple. She murmured a few words and then his gaze went blank as a distorted smile spread across her face.

'And now you will tell me everything you know.'

x x x

Petunia looked up from her tea which had gone cold under her excessive stirring over the last ten minutes. The kitchen table looked rickety, as did the entire house. Still, the place had a cosy atmosphere and Petunia had to admit that she liked it here.

 _Yes._ Everything wasn't really new and, _of course,_ it was not as clean as it would be if _she_ did the scrubbing. But still… this was a place you could stay at for a while.

While she was regarding a particularly ancient tea pot on a shelf next to the kitchen door, a soft cough drew her attention to the woman sitting opposite to her.

'I'm sorry. What were you saying?' Petunia asked.

The woman smiled.

'I was just wondering how you are feeling now. It must be very difficult for you.'

Petunia sighed. The last couple of days had been so different from anything she had ever experienced before. But actually breaking away from Vernon and seeking refuge in a strange woman's house was by far the most unusual.

And now she found herself sitting in this woman's kitchen, drinking tea with her, and actually _talking_ to her.

Nobody had ever cared to talk to her. Ask about _her_ feelings. Oh, well, of course Dumbledore had, at least when there was something he had wanted from her.

Petunia realised that she was already drifting off in thought again and blushed slightly.

'Oh, that's all right,' the woman offered friendlily. 'I don't want to pressure you to talk or share anything you would rather keep to yourself. I was just wondering if there was anything I could do to help.'

Petunia regarded the sincere smile on the woman's face. Somehow her wrinkles didn't make her look old. There was something about her Petunia felt was trustworthy. At least as trustworthy as anyone could get in those circumstances.

'Maybe,' Petunia started hesitantly, 'maybe you could tell me what Dumbledore said to you?'

The woman shifted in her seat, taking another sip of her tea. Then she put the cup back onto its saucer and leaned back.

'Actually, I know very little. As of this moment my knowledge comes from what you have told me and a small note that Albus supplied me with.'

'But I haven't told you anything at all,' Petunia interrupted.

'Oh, well. When you arrived here, you said that Albus Dumbledore had given you my address and that he thought it would be a good idea for you to stay here since you just left your husband.'

That was true. Actually Petunia didn't even know why she had told this lady that she had left Vernon, which by itself was embarrassing enough. But with a whining, clinging boy stuck to her leg and two bags in her hands, stranded on this complete stranger's front lawn, the confession of having left her husband couldn't make the situation any more mortifying than it already was.

'But what did he tell you in his note?' Petunia inquired.

The woman sighed.

'Actually, not much. All he told me was that he had given my address to a friend in need of some help.'

Petunia looked up, questioningly.

'And?'

'And nothing,' the woman said. 'Albus has always been _difficult_ when it comes to such things.'

'What was so difficult about telling you what we were up to?' Petunia asked bitterly. 'It's not like he hasn't nosed into people's business before or made decisions over their heads.'

'As to this, I fear, I cannot give you a satisfactory answer. All I can offer is my experience with Albus, if you are interested,' the woman said slowly.

Taking another sip of her tea, the woman glanced to a pendulum clock which had patiently swung back and forth and was presently suggesting that it was well past midnight.

'Oh, that's alright,' Petunia said quickly, fearing to be cheated out of an interesting account. 'I am not tired.'

'Very well,' the lady smiled and nodded. 'I've known Albus for a very long time. Perhaps, I've known him longer than anyone else. He is without a doubt very intelligent. Maybe one of the most gifted wizards I have known.'

Petunia grimaced, but didn't interrupt.

'Albus has always been a part of the magical world. With his family all being wizards and witches, he was brought up to live and love all things magical. He was always curious and fond of learning new things, many of them too complicated for other people to understand.'

For a moment, the lady hesitated as if unsure how to continue as she kept prodding the cup of tea on the desk in front of her. Then she went on.

'The pursuit of these endeavours caused him to create various cornerstones in his life, which, I guess you could say, define the basis for his approach to many situations. And he didn't always make the right choices.'

'What do you mean?' Petunia furrowed her brows, now sitting very upright. She didn't know what to make of this cryptical account.

'I guess you can sum it up by saying that Albus was confronted with some tasks which overchallenged him. Maybe not intellectually, but emotionally. He made some mistakes.'

'What sort of mistakes do you mean?' Petunia pressed.

'Well,' the woman hesitated, 'haven't you ever come across a situation where you thought that you made a good decision but ended up in hurting someone you loved?'

With a guilty pang, Petunia thought of Harry and all those miserable years of his early life.

 _No,_ she thought. I do not _love_ this kid.

Still, if she were honest, she would admit that she had made mistakes.

Her pained expression did not go unnoticed as the old lady nodded knowingly.

'You see, there are always points in our life where we fail to make the right decisions. It is only human to fail. But more important is what you make of these experiences.'

'What do you mean?'

'You can make a wrong decision, but there is always a way to make up for it. You only have to be willing. The worst that could happen would be that you grieve so much over the mistake you may have made that your attitude changes.'

'I am not certain if I understand,' Petunia said.

'You can never undo a mistake. But you can try to amend. But sometimes, even when you try to do the right thing, you'll just make it worse.'

Again, Petunia shook her head, but deep down she remembered how helpless she had felt once she had started to belittle Harry, even when Dudley wasn't around. How she had tried to drive the boy away from her with hurtful comments, but the child had simply refused to hate her, making it even worse each time she lashed out towards him.

Suppressing a sniff, Petunia leaned back in her chair, prodding at her own cup by now. Looking at the remnants of the tea leafs sloshing on the ground of the cup, she spoke more to herself than anyone else.

'So you are saying that Dumbledore's grief over past mistakes has changed him so much that he is still causing further harm with his decisions, even when he tries to do the right thing?'

'Sadly,' the woman nodded, 'this may just be the case. Think about it. Obviously he wanted to help you in your difficult situation and he told you to come to my place. He knows that I would never deny such a request of him and that I would take you in. Nevertheless, he didn't confide in me and hasn't told me what happened.'

The old woman furrowed her brows and for the first time, Petunia realised how piercing and clear her gaze was when she continued.

'As I said, all I know is what you have told me. Maybe I could be of more help if I knew what was going on and certainly it would have helped if he had told you a little bit more about me before sending you here with your little boy, too!'

Petunia let the meaning of these words sink in for a moment. Then, her initial anger at Albus Dumbledore was rekindled.

'He always thinks he knows best when making his decisions over the heads of all people involved, but he never even bothers to ask. And worst of all,' Petunia added with increasing rage, 'he always manages to make it look like he had no other choice.'

Again, the woman nodded sadly.

'I am not sure if I can offer any helpful comments on this, but I think that you pretty much understand where the problem lies. Albus made mistakes in the past when he let his feelings and emotions carry him away. This is human and natural. But instead of learning from this and moving forward, he became afraid of letting his feelings and emotions control his thinking, afraid of sharing his thoughts with others. Brilliant as he might be, Albus has developed some strange views when it comes to making decisions and tackling problems, I fear. And he doesn't trust easily. This is just what Albus became.'

'I can understand what you are saying,' Petunia replied. She wasn't used to these sorts of conversations, but was pleased to find herself keeping up with the robust lady. 'But you haven't taken something into account.'

'And what would that be?' The old lady inquired politely.

'Who gave him the power to decide?'

'Well, now you have understood,' the old lady smiled. 'You can always make mistakes, but if you don't learn from them, you will only make more mistakes and they will become more serious.'

There was a significant pause, then the old lady continued.

'Albus thinks he is right. He wants to take the pressure and grief of other peoples' shoulders and burdens himself with it. If anything goes wrong, he can put the blame on him, but he doesn't realise that in doing so, he takes away their right to choose for themselves what is right or wrong. And in doing so, he assumes a power over them which he is not qualified to hold.'

Again, Petunia had to think of Harry and how she had looked away for so many years. She was accusing Dumbledore of assuming power over other people's lives but had she really been any better when it came to her own nephew? Who had given her the right to decide, to look away and condemn him to a miserable life just because she couldn't get out of her way and intervene earlier?

'Maybe,' the old lady interrupted Petunia's inner monologue, 'it is your turn to talk a little about yourself.'

Taking heart, Petunia took a sip of her cold tea, put the cup down with a little more force than necessary, and began to talk.

x x x

Harry had slept well. In fact he couldn't remember having slept better in a long time. And, funny enough, it was like he hadn't dreamt at all.

Although he couldn't remember how he got in bed and how long he had slept, he had woken on a soft mattress, covered with a soft and clean blanket. Turning from his stomach onto his side, he felt a stabbing pain in his wrist. Slowly he stretched his arms and feet and started to move various muscle groups as to check which ones hurt. He realised that he was still wearing yesterday's clothes and that only his shoes had been stripped off.

The last day's events had been troubling and confusing. So much had happened. He had been taken away from his family (although they hadn't been nice, it had still been his family, right?) and for a tiny moment he had thought that he would stay with Tom.

 _How childish._

Then he had been placed in this scary man's care who was allegedly a friend of his mom.

Harry didn't know what to make of him. Usually he found it quite easy to categorise people. Either they didn't mind him but were bullied away, or they were fed stories by Dudley or Uncle Vernon - like the teachers and kids at school - and therefore didn't like him.

Or they belonged to the third category that saw him for what he really was. A hassle. A nuisance. _A freak._

But then there had been Tom. A person who had genuinely liked him and, for the first time in Harry's life, had believed what he had confided in him. He hadn't sided with Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia. He had even tried to help him.

 _He said I can come and visit if I make good progress_ , Harry thought, caressing his panther's fang which still hung loosely around his neck.

Harry rolled back onto his stomach. His back still hurt a lot and the aching was only rivalled by the thudding pain coming from his head. It was hard to think when your head was hammering like this.

 _How am I supposed to make good progress?_

Pondering his options, Harry slowly got out of bed, looking out of his window at the vast landscape that unfolded itself in front of him.

 _Why couldn't he remember how he had gotten into bed?_

His frustration with the situation began to build.

He was supposed to make good progress, but he didn't even know what was expected of him.

Obviously, his sphere, his sanctuary, had irritated a few people and there wasn't a lot Harry could do about it. After all, he didn't do it on purpose.

 _Although it had been nice to hear_ her _voice_.

It hadn't been one of his best moments, Harry had to admit. He hadn't meant to hurt Uncle Vernon and he hadn't meant to scare his new guardian that badly either. Now, being well-rested and having woken up in a soft, clean bed, all the things which had troubled him so deeply yesterday seemed somehow dull and having taken the scalpel from Tom seemed oddly childish now.

 _What was I thinking?_ Harry chastised himself.

But at the same time there were those moments when it was so hard to tell what was true and what wasn't, what was right and what not. Sometimes when Harry found his emotions overwhelming him, it was easy to confuse things. So used to the way his uncle treated him, it was nearly impossible for him to believe others could treat him differently.

 _And his new guardian had been so mad_.

Harry felt the lump in his stomach return when he remembered fetching his belongings from the Dursley's place, how Tom had stood up to Uncle Vernon, protected Harry. No one ever had. And now he was all by himself again.

As if to shake off the thought, Harry shrugged his shoulders and ran his fingertips along the window. Suddenly a cough from the door made him jerk and spin around anxiously. Leaned against the doorframe stood his new guardian, again dressed in black trousers and shirt, his expression unreadable.

'I see you are already awake,' Severus said.

'Yes,' Harry answered and cautiously added 'Sir' after a short while. Uncle Vernon had always liked to be addressed like this.

Severus nodded. Surely 'Sir' was better than 'Mr. Snape' and certainly he wasn't going to have the kid address him by his first name. This boy was going to show him the proper respect like every other kid in school did, although he couldn't call him Professor of course – not yet.

'How are you feeling today?' he inquired.

'Uhm. I guess I am fine, Sir,' Harry said hesitantly, stepping from one foot to the other.

Severus raised a brow.

'Well, how very precise. Perhaps I should have been a little clearer.'

'Sir?'

'Are you in pain?'

'Uhm.'

Severus started to feel unnerved again. He wasn't good with these things and he'd told the headmaster as much before. And now he was repeating his mistakes over and over again.

Mistaking the annoyed look on his guardian's face for impatience, Harry's eyes widened.

'Uhm, well, my wrist hurts,' he replied quickly, 'I fell down, you see.'

 _At least the boy is talking to me._

'Is anything else hurting?'

'My head?' Harry replied. 'I hurt it when I fell…'

'ENOUGH!' Severus' expression hardened.

How he despised these excuses.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I'm not hurting then!' the boy answered automatically.

Severus sighed.

 _This was just wrong. Why was this kid mocking him?_

'I am under the impression that you are telling me whatever you believe I want to hear.'

'Sir?'

'One of my rules in this house is that you will never lie to me. Is that clear?'

Harry nodded vigorously which made his head spin. Taking a step back, his hands reached for the bed post and he grabbed on to it to keep his balance.

'I want you to be able to take care of important things and therefore you have to be well-rested and healthy. Do you understand?'

 _Nod._

'As long as you are hurting, I won't have your undivided attention. Maybe this is not the right time to discuss the circumstances under which you received your injuries. However, it is necessary to see to your physical condition which I will do now. I will make sure that you are healthy and in a good condition and then we will have some things to discuss.'

As soon as Severus' gaze met the boy's fearful eyes he realised that he had sounded more serious than he had meant to.

'This discussion is not about your little stunt yesterday,' he decided to clarify his intention and ease the child's fear. 'I am referring to the sphere you are creating.'

Harry eyed him suspiciously. He wasn't certain if that meant that he was not in trouble. Until now he just knew that they were going to talk about something _else_ he had done, something else he had caused trouble with, _yet again_.

Before the boy could work himself all up with lots of unnecessary anxiety, Severus continued.

'I assume that you are still in pain. You will not be able to have breakfast, have a shower or do anything properly for that matter, as long as you are not healthy. Therefore I want to _help_ you get well again. Do you understand?'

'Yes,' Harry nodded. Maybe he could try to think of him as Tom who had nearly said the same things to him.

'Okay, here is what we are going to do,' Severus continued. 'I need to have a look at your injuries and when I can be sure of their extent, I will be able to give you some medicine which is appropriate for your condition. Do you understand that?'

'Yes, Sir.'

The voice was small and timid and Severus noticed that much of the arrogance he'd expected to see from a _Potter_ was absent.

 _You only see what you_ expect _to see_ , the annoying inner voice bothered him.

But somehow, that was not true.

Severus Snape _had_ tried to look behind the façade of this little boy. He _had_ done a lot of thinking last night and after all, he had decided not to force the truth out of the boy with some spell, hadn't he? He had even tried to be _nice_ to James Potter's son who had shown up dressed like a Gryffindor and had even begun to think of him as _Harry_ for that matter. Wasn't that more than enough for a start?

And sure enough, he noticed, the small voice of the boy wasn't displaying any arrogance now. It was quiet and timid.

'I need you to sit down on the bed,' Severus started.

Obediently Harry complied, sinking into the soft cushions.

'Please take off your shirt,' Severus continued.

The boy didn't look at him but he could see that Harry's body became quite rigid.

Again Severus sighed, as he seemed to do so often these days.

'You can trust me,' he heard himself say and ignored the murmur of his mildly surprised inner voice. 'I told you that we will not discuss any circumstances under which you obtained any injuries for the time being. For now, I am solely interested in restoring your health.'

Harry looked up and green eyes met the older man's gaze.

'No questions?'

'No questions.'

'No comments?'

'No comments.'

'Promise?'

Severus gritted his teeth for a moment.

'Yes,' he forced himself to say and couldn't refrain from adding, 'I told you that I do not tolerate lying or any kind of untruthfulness in this house. Do you expect that I put myself above my own rules?'

Harry blinked. He had never given much thought to what it would be like if the person who made up the rules abided by them too.

Uncle Vernon certainly never had.

'No, Sir. I am sorry.' Harry added hesitantly. 'I didn't mean to say that.'

A subtle grin returned to Severus' face.

'Let us proceed then.'

Slowly, Harry started to fumble with the sleeves of his shirt. Having been given a shirt which actually fit his size, this wasn't that easy with a hurting back and hand.

Severus watched the boy's attempt to strip off his clothing without doing likewise with his dignity. Finally the boy sat in front of him, stripped to the waist, two wide eyes looking at him carefully.

At first he noticed that Harry was quite thin. Not overly malnourished, but just thin enough so you would notice. Second, he imagined that he saw little traces of scars here and there, dotting the pale skin.

Moving towards the bed he saw Harry's muscles tense. As not to engage in further discussions, Severus decided to get on with matters efficiently as long as the boy seemed to comply.

'Please show me your hands.'

He was going to start lightly, hoping to ease the boy's fears. Harry stretched them out obediently, palms upwards.

Taking Harry's uninjured hand with both of his, Severus started to squeeze it and feel here and there, bending it to either side, always watching the boy's expression closely. He didn't seem to mind. Taking his other hand, he noticed the pained expression immediately. Carefully he traced the scaphoid bone and each finger.

'Can you bend your wrist' he asked and quickly added 'without hurting it?'

Harry shook his head.

'Alright.'

No comments.

Letting go of his hands, Severus lifted Harry's chin with two of his fingers, looking him into the eyes. Then he held up the index finger of his other hand and started moving it sideways. Harry's eyes followed its movement.

'Does your head hurt?'

'Yes.'

With his thumb Severus carefully traced the stiches on Harry's forehead and inspected the bruising on his cheek.

'Close your eyes.'

Harry closed his eyes obediently.

'Is it better or worse now?'

'Worse,' Harry answered. 'I think I feel dizzy when I close my eyes for too long.'

'Alright. Then open your eyes again and please turn around.'

Harry's body was still rigid and tense, but he did as he was told. He turned around, sitting cross-legged on the bed. Now that he was facing the opposite wall, Severus didn't have to school his features into a neutral expression because Harry couldn't see him anyway.

 _No remarks._ He reminded himself. _No questions. You know anyway._

An uncomfortable lump had formed in Severus' stomach. There was no need to ask any stupid questions to which he already knew the answer. No need to irritate, no need to make the boy feel ashamed and worthless.

The cuts on Harry's back were undeniable and told Severus everything he needed to know. They had already scabbed and sure enough this showed him that, at some point, they had been bleeding. Several bruises covering the small body completed the impression.

 _Bastard,_ Severus thought and gritted his teeth once more. His grip on Harry's shoulders had reflexively hardened which made the boy jump.

'Sorry,' Severus mumbled and took a step back.

'Can I turn around again?' Harry asked hesitantly.

Trying to resume a very neutral expression, Severus made an effort to stand very straight and remain calm. Hands resting on his belt he replied,

'You may turn around again and put your shirts back on.'

Harry slowly turned around on the bed, still sitting cross-legged and started to fumble with the t-shirt. Once dressed again, he eyed his new guardian carefully. He thought it was curious how the man appeared to feel as uncomfortable being scrutinized as Harry had just been.

'You know,' Harry stated. This wasn't a question.

'Yes,' Severus replied dryly.

'That's not what I meant,' Harry said, causing Severus to look very confused and lose his patience despite all intentions.

'It is not very hard to guess that you have been abused,' Severus pressed. _And why was this child looking at him like this?_

'No,' Harry shook his head calmly. 'That's not what I meant. You _know_ it. What it's like.'

There was an uncomfortable silence.

 _No._

'It's alright. I understand.'

This was going completely the wrong way!

Severus gripped his belt very hard, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

'This isn't about me,' he interrupted the awkward silence with his most professional voice, 'this is about you, so let us resume treating your injuries.'

In silence Harry was herded to the kitchen. Inhabitants of pictures on the walls cast them curious looks. In the kitchen, Severus gestured Harry to sit on a chair next to the table at the window. A bowl of cereals and fruit had already been prepared.

'I need to fetch your medicine while you start on your breakfast, Harry. I should be able to dose the vials more precisely now that I am aware of their extent, alright?'

Harry nodded.

'Uhm,' he started when Severus was almost out of the door, causing him to halt and turn around, brows raised.

'I don't know if this is important,' he began and started to roll up his trouser legs, revealing a view on his scratched knees. 'It isn't really bad, just a scratch. Just so you'd know, alright?'

Severus nodded and left for his store room.

Taking more time than necessary to assemble the needed vials and doses he returned to the kitchen. Harry had already eaten most of his breakfast. At least the boy's appetite seemed to have returned. Contrary to Severus' – his appetite had gone.

x x x


	15. Revelations

After poor Harry gave Severus a lot to think, even more revelations are coming up. See how Severus' struggle continues...

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 15 – Revelations  
**

Harry had taken the vials without hesitation.

 _What is he trying to prove now?_ Severus thought.

Severus was feeling uneasy. And worst of it, he didn't even know why. Well, he knew why.

Obviously the boy had misinterpreted his actions and made him feel awkward.

 _That's not true,_ the annoying voice in Severus' head commented. _And you know._

Harry regarded his new guardian, deep in thought. He was feeling so much better since he had taken the vials. They had tasted horribly, to be honest. But he had gulped them down without mimicking; he wanted to show his new guardian that he could be a good boy.

'Are you done with your breakfast, Harry?' Severus asked when the boy started fidgeting in his seat, staring at his nearly empty bowl of breakfast.

'Yes, Sir.' Harry replied. He wasn't sure how they would proceed from now on, so he offered

'If you don't have any other chores for me, I will do the dishes now.'

'NO, you won't!' Severus replied, annoyed. A second later he regretted his outburst, seeing the boy jump again.

'What's wrong?' Harry asked timidly.

'You don't have to play my servant here,' Severus answered, a tinge of disgust in his voice.

'I have a house elf for these kinds of chores.'

 _Silence._

'What's a house elf, Sir?' Harry asked, his brow furrowing.

'A house elf is a magical creature that offers its service to a wizard's family.'

'Like a slave?' Harry furrowed his brows.

'No.'

 _Well._

Severus leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He had never given this matter much thought. Clearly house elves were delighted to be of service to wizards, you couldn't really speak of indecent subservience here, it was just _natural_ for house elves to be, well, servants. But they were _no_ slaves.

'Does the house elf live here, too?' Harry asked.

'Yes.'

'Where does he sleep?' Harry pressed on. 'How come I haven't seen him yet?'

Severus was getting annoyed by all these questions. He was starting to feel worse about the house elf matter.

'I am not in the mood of discussing my house elf at present, Mr. Potter. I was rather of the opinion that we would be talking about _you_.'

'About me?'

Harry was instantly on his guard, again. He had thought that he was having a nice chat with Mr. Snape for once. For a second, it had felt like he had changed. Or maybe Harry had only hoped that he had been acting differently for a while, _nicer_. But now he racketed his brain what he had possibly done wrong again.

'Stop working yourself into another fit, Harry,' Severus interrupted him and pointed his long index finger right into his ward's face.

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again upon seeing the stern expression on his guardian's face.

'I intend to speak to you about your magical abilities _and_ I will not tolerate any comments referring to magical abilities as freakish nonsense,' Severus added midway, seeing Harry's mouth opening again.

A second time, Harry closed his mouth, uncertain what to say.

'There are some very basic rules that you will learn now, and I do not wish to repeat myself.'

Harry nodded vigorously. With rules he was good. Uncle Vernon had taught him many times that he hated to repeat something.

'People with magical abilities are different from non-magical people, which are called _Muggles_. But both have not asked for the respective position they are in and therefore cannot be blamed for it. They have to accept it as it is. Do you understand that?'

'Yes.'

'Magical people are in the advanced position of _knowing_ that there is a difference between them and non-magical people. Muggles are not so fortunate. Therefore a wizard has to appreciate the situation he is in. You have received special powers and you will value them.'

'But I didn't ask for them,' Harry interrupted stubbornly.

He remembered all the times he had used accidental magic and Uncle Vernon had punished him for it, saying he would 'get the freakish behaviour out of him once and for good at some point.' Obviously he had never managed, but the memories were still vivid to Harry. He didn't like being _magical._

Severus sighed. 'Of course you haven't asked for them, that's what I just tried to explain to you. Which brings us to the second rule. You will accept what you are and therefore you will learn how to use your powers.'

'You mean there is a way of controlling everything?' Harry interrupted once again.

Severus saw a chance here.

'Yes, generally speaking. But it needs time and practice and depending on the time and effort you spend on it, you will be able to master very advanced magic.'

'Like what?'

Severus thought of Harry's sphere for a moment, but decided that it was too early to touch this matter. Instead he said

'What would you like to do?'

Harry felt taken by surprise. No one had ever asked him something like that.

'What do you mean?'

'I meant what I said, Potter. If you were to control your magical abilities, what would you like to be able to do?'

'Oh,' Harry nodded slowly. 'Well, I don't know.'

Amused Severus looked at the boy who had adapted a slight shade of pink.

'What is it?'

The boy started fidgeting.

'Well, it would be nice if I could make potions like the ones you gave me.'

Now it was Severus' turn to look puzzled. He wasn't used to little kids actually appreciating the difficult art of Potion Making.

'Why is that?' he asked.

'Well,' Harry scratched his head for a while. 'You know, I was hurting before you gave me all those potions and although they tasted horribly, the pain stopped. They really worked,' Harry added, quite fond of them by now.

'It is nice to hear that you are not in pain anymore,' Severus replied and realised that he really meant it. He wanted the boy to feel well again. A child that had been through so much needed to feel safe, feel cared for. Not by him, obviously, but someone. And restoring his physical health was definitely a good start.

'Could you show me how to brew the potions you gave me today?' Harry asked.

'Do you suspect that you will be in need of any in the near future?' Severus replied automatically, unable to refrain from his usual cynicism.

Harry flushed violently now, embarrassed as he understood the implication of his question.

'No!' he added quickly. 'Well, that's not what I meant. You know. I thought just to know. Just in case.'

Harry felt stupid. Why was Mr. Snape mocking him? He had wanted to tell him that he was really grateful, that he was very impressed with his guardian's skills and that he wanted to learn from him to show his guardian that he tried hard. Instead, Harry just swallowed and looked at his hands that rested in his lap.

Severus didn't like the direction this discussion was heading, too. Looking into the pained expression of the child, he nearly wished to take back what he'd said, but it had just slipped out. He was so used to fend off annoying children with his cynicism at Hogwarts. Yet, hadn't the boy shown appreciation for one of his most treasured skills?

With a sigh, Severus got up. They could as well start with their first lesson.

Harry was being herded from the kitchen through several floors until he found himself in a library. Although it appeared to be small at first sight, there were seemingly endless rows of bookshelves. Some of the books were looking very old and rather _odd_ , Harry thought.

Severus gestured towards a small table with two chairs, right next to a spacious window. It was nine o'clock and the sun was shining brightly already. Harry sat down obediently. Severus walked along the bookshelf and after a few moments, grabbed a heavy book which he placed in front of Harry with a thud.

'You will read through this book until I come for you. I have some matters to attend to and I expect you to study. I might ask some questions about it later on,' Severus added with a significant look, 'so don't think you can be lazy here. This is _not_ a holiday.'

Harry nodded, suppressing a grin. Apparently Mr. Snape tried to be stern again. Harry was still very uncertain how this was developing, after all Mr. Dumbledore expected him to stop creating his sphere. He didn't even know how he had done it, but maybe if he stopped doing it, if he made good progress, he would be let back to Tom.

Harry decided that whatever would be asked of him, he would do his best to comply. This way he would be able to meet everybody's expectations and hopefully return to the one person who liked him. _Who cared._

One hour passed and Harry had read through several chapters of _A History of Magic_. There were many pictures and his initial fear that he wouldn't be able to understand a book about magic was not confirmed. Quite contrary, the book seemed fairly easy to read. There were no spells, no curses, it was basically an introduction to the magical world and Harry was intrigued by the way in which it wasn't regarded as something freakish at all.

Another hour passed and Harry was still so immerged in the book that he didn't realise his guardian returning.

'Not finished yet?' a snide voice asked.

Harry jumped and sent the book flying towards the floor. There was a reason why he didn't like people sneaking up on him.

Frustrated he picked up the book and lay it carefully back on the desk. Then he looked at the Potions Master who was looking at him without betraying a single emotion. Harry thought that the dark shadows under Mr. Snape's eyes were even darker than before, but maybe he had imagined it.

'No, Sir. I am sorry. I…'

'Stop apologising!'

'Sorry, yes. I mean. S… I meant, if you gave me another hour, I could finish the book. Please,' Harry pleaded. He wanted to make it right for once.

Severus regarded him for a while. He hadn't expected Harry to come past the first chapter, but apparently the child was able to muster at least some concentration. Also, Severus was not used to kids who did not regard reading school books as punishment, but a treat.

'If you really enjoy the book, you may read a bit more of it before you go to bed,' he tested and confirmed his impression when a genuine smile appeared on the boy's face.

With a dismissive gesture, Severus added

'But until now that will be sufficient.'

'What did you do?' Harry asked, his eyes moving towards the shadows beneath Severus' eyes again.

'That is none of your business, Potter _,_ ' Severus replied, a little annoyed.

The boy was too attentive for his liking.

'This is not a pension,' he continued, a little snider. 'I didn't ask for a guest and have own tasks to attend to, next to hosting you. So certainly I won't be able to babysit you all of the time.'

'Why are you doing that?' Harry asked, his heart hurting again.

'Why do I do _what_ , Potter?' Severus returned the question, even more annoyed by now.

'As soon as you feel uncomfortable, you start being mean. Calling me _Potter_ and looking like that. Yes, that's the look I meant….'

Harry's voiced ebbed away and he looked at the Potions Master with wide eyes.

He knew he shouldn't have said it, but for a second, he had felt so daring. It was such a new experience to sense another adult to be so… insecure.

Uncle Vernon had never been insecure. Insecure to be around with, maybe. But apart from that…

A frosty glare had appeared on Severus' face by now.

'Would you be so kind as to explain what you mean by that, _Harry_?'

Harry fidgeted. Fumbling with his fingers, he decided that he had crossed a line and that whatever lunatic force had driven him to do so, he would have to be more careful in the future.

'Sorry. I mean…'

'Yes?'

'It's just…' Harry sighed. 'Nothing.'

Severus rubbed his temples for a second. This whole morning had been ridiculous. At first the boy had started to say funny things about _him_ , and then, when Severus had thought that finally things were starting to ease up a little, with the boy cured, put in the library for his first study lesson, disturbing news had reached him.

x x x

A robust little lady was pacing up and down in the Headmaster's study. Albus was sitting behind his desk, eying her with an expression only students wear when regarding an especially strict teacher who is not in the best mood.

It was the first time since a long while that he had felt so uneasy.

The woman paced back to his desk once more and threw him an angry look.

'How could you, Albus!' Bathilda charged. 'For all I knew, I thought that I had finally talked some sense into you!'

Embarrassed, Albus stroked his beard. He wasn't used to being chastised like this.

'Bathilda, I thought it was only for the best…'

'Exactly!' Bathilda interrupted, even angrier than before. Angry red spots appeared on her pale face. 'It's you who always knows best, isn't it? The same old story all over again. Have you thought about the consequences for even one second?'

Turning around, Bathilda paced back across the room, casting a look at the giant walrus of a man who seemed to have gone completely haywire, sitting slumped in a groaning chair. Her gaze returned to Albus. Pointing her finger at Vernon, she continued.

' _This_ is entirely your fault, Albus. What made you think that it could possibly be the best for the boy to stay with such a family? And then, when you finally realised that you have made a grave mistake, what did you do then? You just made it worse and best of all, you leave this monster in the house, unshielded, where Bellatrix was sure to find him sooner or later.'

Bathilda didn't even stop when Albus had opened his mouth to answer her question. After a while he closed it again, in defeat.

'Furthermore,' Bathilda ploughed on, 'you ruined the lives of this poor doctor and his family! How _could_ you!'

'A Fidelius Charm has been put on their house in time,' Albus argued weakly.

'And that is certainly not thanks to you, Albus!'

Bathilda was beside herself. After she had talked to Petunia, she hadn't been able to sleep all night. There was no way she would look over what Albus had done. After all this time, she had thought that he was starting to act more responsibly when it came to power and misusing it. Yet she had to learn that he had again engaged in lots of secrecy and deceptions until many people had been hurt or endangered. She hadn't believed her ears when Petunia had told her about the things that had happened with Harry, Vernon, the doctor and finally the _Sphere._

It was old magic, Bathilda had recognised it instantly. She had merely managed to stay in the house for the rest of the night. As soon as Petunia had woken up she had been able to tell her that she would be out of the house for a day.

She had intended to stop at #4 Privet Drive to have a little _chat_ with Uncle Vernon before she wanted to inform Albus about her suspicions, but had only found him injured. She had been able to retrieve some information the Memory Charm had shattered until there was enough for her to know that Doctor Connor and his family were in great danger.

The last thing Vernon had been forced to remember was that Harry had gone with him and would possibly stay at his place. And then Bellatrix had known, too. Bad enough that she had been let out of Azkaban in return for valuable information for the Ministry of Magic.

But Bathilda hadn't had a doubt for one second on which side Bellatrix was now, just like she had been back then. And now her suspicions had been proven correct.

It was the Connor family's luck that Vernon didn't know their exact address, contrary to Bathilda who knew from Petunia's story all she required. It left Bathilda enough time to reach them and cast the Fidelius Charm upon them.

Casting another angry stare at Albus and then Vernon, Bathilda stood up very straight and ploughed on.

'And _poor_ Severus! Could you at least explain why you had to do this to him? And the boy? The BOY!'

'You know what Severus has been through,' Albus replied. 'I thought he would be able to understand him best.'

Bathilda seated herself in a heavy armchair a few paces away from the Headmaster's desk. Her face was flushed and her fingers white as she forcefully clenched them to the armrest.

Consternation was showing on Albus' face, his brows furrowed, head bowed. It is one thing to be screamed at, blamed, in full justice of course. But it was another thing to be finally given up, ignored by the last person that cared, that had always cared. When such a thing happened it didn't matter if you were five, fifty or hundred-and-fifty.

'Bathilda,' he started again weakly. 'What do you expect me to do?' Genuine hurt lined his voice and was evident on his face now.

Bathilda sighed.

'I don't know, Albus. I just don't know. Why haven't you come to me before? No, I think we both know the answer. But what to do now? There are a lot of things that have to be taken care of. I am looking after Petunia and Dudley and I don't mind having them stay a little longer. But there isn't any more space at my place. I am tired, I cannot handle any more visitors.'

Some noise interrupted Bathilda and Albus, causing both to look at Vernon who had started to nibble at the couch, a funny look on his face.

' _He_ ,' Bathilda continued, 'was supposed to get a nice trip to Azkaban, if you asked me. But I fear that it will have to be St. Mungo's now.

Albus didn't look up from his desk anymore.

'How can you expect to meddle with peoples' lives without ruining them, Albus? And Harry.'

She had a final tone about this.

'I came here to talk to you about his sphere. But I am under the impression that you already knew.'

'Bathilda, I…' Albus started again, but was silenced with a single gaze.

'You _knew._ '

'Severus won't be able to understand unless he learns about it himself.' Albus tried to defend himself.

'No,' Bathilda said sadly. 'It's you who doesn't understand.'

Jerking her head towards Vernon, she added

'I think the only thing you can possibly do at the moment is taking care of his placement in St. Mungo's.'

Bathilda looked at a small clock hovering next to Albus' desk that indicated that it was already half past nine. Getting to her feet she walked towards the fireplace, reaching for some Floo powder.

'And in the meantime, I will talk to Severus.'

x x x

'What a pleasure, Bathilda,' Severus nodded politely.

'It's good to see you, too, Severus,' Bathilda replied. 'It's been too long.'

'Excuse my straightforwardness, but if you wouldn't mind it'd be nice if you just said what brought you here.'

'As it happens,' Bathilda smiled and studied Severus' unusual clothing, 'I am aware of your little visitor at the moment.'

Severus jerked his head, annoyed. 'Of course you'd know.'

'Maybe we can sit down and talk if you don't mind, Severus. I am not that young anymore and I would appreciate a cup of tea,' Bathilda said conversationally.

'Of course,' Severus nodded curtly.

A few moments later, Severus and his unexpected guest were seated in the living room, two stirring hot cups of tea in front of them. A house elf hurried away with his head bowed, an empty tea tray in his hands. Severus was reminded of the discussion he had had with Harry about house elves and shook his head as to shrug off the thought. With an inviting gesture he signalled Bathilda to start.

'I know that this situation is difficult and therefore I will not prolong it unnecessarily.'

Severus nodded in appreciation.

'You are currently housing Harry Potter. James Potter's son,' she added.

Severus glared.

'You must have asked yourself why Albus placed Harry specifically in your care, when there were possibly hundreds of wizarding families that would have been delighted to take in The Boy Who Lived.'

Another nod followed, this time less vigorous.

'I was under the impression,' Severus said, 'that the Headmaster wanted me to deal with some kind of advanced accidental magic the boy was using.'

'And because you are a very accomplished Occlumens, this would possibly be an easy task for you,' Bathilda nodded, smiling.

'Well,' Severus didn't like the way in which he was praised, if he was. 'I guess the Headmaster was too busy with all of his very important tasks, all too crucial to be abandoned, so _unfortunately_ he didn't see it fitting to take care of the Potter boy himself. After all he did to him.'

 _Was Bathilda trying not to smile?_

'Indeed,' Bathilda continued, 'we seem to have arrived at the heart of the issue already.'

'And what would that be?' Severus didn't like the direction this conversation was taking.

'You very rightly realised that somebody had to take care of the boy. Poor Lily and James died far too young.'

'If you were just so kind as to continue,' Severus put his cup of tea back onto the desk, more forcefully than he had intended to.

'There is more you have in common with this boy than his unfortunate past, Severus.' Bathilda bestowed him with a look Severus wasn't able to interpret. Was it care or pity?

When Severus didn't make an attempt to break the silence, Bathilda continued.

'You realise that things have gotten out of control over the last couple of days. Harry does not enjoy the protection of his family anymore. His aunt and cousin are staying at my place, and his uncle is being brought to St. Mungo's at present,' she added slowly.

Severus' glare darted up until he met the robust woman's eyes.

'What do you mean his uncle is being brought to St. Mungo's?'

Bathilda regarded the Potions Master who was sitting very straight now, his gaze nearly forcefully, as if he tried to extract the information somehow.

'After Harry was brought to this Doctor…'

'Tom Connor,' Severus added immediately.

'Yes, after he was brought there, Bellatrix paid Vernon a visit.'

'BELLATRIX!' Severus jumped to his feet. Unperturbed by this outbreak, Bathilda started stirring her tea before she continued.

'Yes. She has been let out of Azkaban only recently, as you will certainly be aware of. When the Blood Wards failed, she tried to find him immediately. Messed up Vernon fairly thoroughly, I might add.'

'Good,' Severus said coldly. 'But what does this have to do with my relation to the Potter boy?'

This brought the old lady back onto their initial path of conversation.

'Well, Severus,' she started. 'I am glad that you are discussing this matter so freely with me. The whole problem is that your _relation_ to the Potter boy, as you nicely put it, has been non-existent until now.'

Severus glared at her for a while.

'Severus,' Bathilda shook her head as if she was frustrated by his uncharacteristically slow reactions. 'He is Lily's boy. After all what has happened. You _know_ Petunia and her family. You knew them way back. You must have known that this wasn't precisely the best environment for Lily's boy to grow up in. After all there was, did you never think of taking care of him yourself?'

'There was _nothing,_ ' Severus pressed, now pacing up and down the living room.

Bathilda smiled again.

'Who are you kidding, Severus?'

'That's none of your business, woman!' Severus whirled around, pointing his index finger at Bathilda's face.

 _How dare she start on Lily now!_

Bathilda decided to change tactics.

'The sphere,' she simply said.

'What about it?' Severus asked, again pacing up and down. 'It is advanced, yes, but it was accidental.'

'Poor Severus,' Bathilda shook her head, pitying the Potions Master which only seemed to enrage him further. 'You are still so angry, still so blind, that you have closed your eyes to see the most natural thing in the world.'

'And what is that supposed to mean now?' Severus didn't like being messed with like this.

'Love.'

Nonplussed, he looked at Bathilda. Had the old fool's talk finally penetrated her own mind, too, spreading the good news to everybody who was willing to hear them now?

'It was the love of a mother who tried to protect her son. She knew that she was going to die rather sooner than later, and she was going to make sure that Harry would not be left unprotected once she left.'

'There were still the boy's relatives,' Severus added, less vigorously. He stopped next to the table and pinched his nose with his right hand. This was like a bad headache that just wouldn't go away.

'Exactly. And what a _nice_ alternative that was,' the old lady snorted. 'Don't you think that Lily knew her sister well, and her husband? Her _husband_! Do you honestly think that she was happy about this, that she thought those were the people who were going to take the best care of her little baby boy? Haven't you thought for one second that she might have wanted you to…'

'You are NOT going to make this my fault, woman!' Severus interrupted, his face flushed.

Slowly, Bathilda held up her hands.

'Such anger, such hurt. Severus, I did not come here with the intention to blame you. Quite contrary, actually I was under the impression that you knew.'

'That I knew _what_?'

'That Lily was being talked into placing Harry with her relatives by Albus, who deemed this the only possible solution to keep the boy safe.'

'The blood wards,' Severus said simply.

Bathilda nodded. 'So would you please let me continue, for Merlin's sake!'

Severus nodded silently, his fists clenched.

'I believe that you underestimate the friendship you had with Lily back then,' Bathilda continued. 'You may wonder what all of this has to do with Harry's sphere.'

 _Silence._

'It is very old magic. Lily invoked some very ancient spells and placed them on her baby boy before she died. They cannot be described with many words, they are best understood by the feelings the spell caster bestows upon the individual who will from that point carry those feelings and memories. They are placed so deeply in his soul, that Harry is not aware of it himself. And it appears, up until this point, that those feelings were hidden too deep under the surface to be noticed by anyone.'

'Not even by Harry?'

' _Especially_ not by Harry,' Bathilda nodded. 'Lily wanted to protect her boy, not confuse him. By bestowing her feelings on him she wanted to give him some guidance and protection for the future. Direct him who to trust, how to act, and possibly how to defend himself. Things have gone worse recently. I think that is what has triggered Harry's outbursts, his accidental magic which manifested itself in this _sphere_. I suspect that this is Lily's doing.'

'How could that be?'

'She pulls him into his protective world when danger becomes too imminent, when he is too scared for a little boy to bear. She tries to supply him with the protection, love, and security she was never able to provide as a mother once she had died. She offers him the sanctuary he never had.'

'What do you know about this sphere?' Severus didn't know if he was supposed to be angry or intrigued. The latter overruled his rage for a moment.

'I know that Harry acts intuitively. He is led by the feelings and judgment his mother bestowed upon him. I cannot know to which extent she placed her memories within Harry, but I am sure that it would be rewarding for you to find out. And this is what Albus thought,' Bathilda added quietly.

'He WHAT?' Severus exploded.

'I know, Severus, I know,' Bathilda said and for a momen, her eyes were glassy with tears. She felt sorry for the young man who was yet again pacing back and forth, hitting the palm of his one hand with the fist of the other.

'How DARE he play with everybody around him like that?' Severus was beside himself. 'Did he not think, for only ONE second, that I MIGHT have wanted to know?'

'Severus,' Bathilda didn't even try to sound soothing, as she knew Severus would have objected to this. 'I cannot undo what Albus did, but I came here to be completely honest with you, and I came here to offer my help if you are willing.'

'Well that's a nice change, for a start,' Severus snapped. He felt hurt, betrayed.

'There is no need to lash out to me, young man,' Bathilda reproached. 'I just said that I am here to help you. I am not Albus and no! _I_ will deal with Albus,' she added, looking at the Potions Master who had suddenly changed his path and moved towards the fire place Bathilda had emerged from a while ago.

Severus turned around, frustrated, and suddenly realised that he had rarely lost his temper the way he had in the last couple of days. Things hadn't been perfect in his life, but manageable. And now the whole construct that kept everything in line had been demolished within a few days.

'Would you be so kind as to explain the sudden change of thought then?' Severus asked, still agitated.

Bathilda sighed. 'I wasn't going to put it so plainly, but obviously there is no other way. She knew of your past and she felt that you could be trusted. She knew that you – of possibly all the other eligible and willing other wizards in the country – would be best suited to take care of her baby boy. Only I fear,' Bathilda sighed now and looked at him carefully, 'that she expected you to take him in a little earlier.'

'What do you mean by that now?' Severus' fists were still white from the force he used to clench them together.

'The love and memories she bestowed upon him were possibly designed to help him make a smooth transition, to help him adapt to a new life once his parents were _gone_. But when no one came to fetch him and he was left with his relatives for good, the magic sank in deeper and deeper, only resulting in the accidental magical outbursts which often occur when strong magic has been placed and forgotten, unused.'

Severus was still not sure if the hand that was extended to him was supposed to help him up or slap him.

'Harry forgot who to trust. The memories must have faded until Harry didn't know who cared anymore. And his relatives did their fair share, I might add,' Bathilda huffed angrily.

'There is only one mistake in your logic,' Severus interrupted coldly.

'And what would that be, Severus?'

'He didn't let me in.'

'What do you mean by that?' Bathilda looked up, her eyes very clear and piercing now.

'If the memories were supposed to tell him that I was the one to take care of him, why didn't he let me in? I wasn't able to penetrate his sphere, although I was actually trying to help him. He was thrashing on the floor, hitting his head rather badly, but still he perpetuated this sphere until I left the room, it was the only way to keep him from draining all his energy.'

'But you left the room?' Bathilda enquired.

'Yes, I left! I didn't stay and I didn't help,' Severus answered, annoyed. He didn't like how everybody seemed to mention how inadequate he had become these days.

'No, that's not what I meant,' Bathilda interrupted, her index finger hovering in front of Severus' nose triumphantly. 'You weren't blasted away.'

'What?' Severus hesitated. 'Well, actually, no. I wasn't.'

'See.' Bathilda's smile was back in place. 'I told you that Harry's memories faded and you cannot expect him to trust any stranger now, especially not after what has happened. But when he created his sphere to protect himself from Vernon, he blasted him a good way down the road.'

Severus thought about this. No one had bothered to tell him any details until now.

'What had happened?' he asked.

'Petunia told me that Dr. Connor was returning Harry home after he had run away. He was still sitting in the car when Vernon returned home, _drunk_ –' Severus' mouth became a thin line – 'and he started hitting him. Smashed his head against the car and when he tried to do it again, he was blasted away by Harry's sphere.'

'Well,' Severus' voice was controlled and even now. 'You can see why Vernon was blasted away. Harry was being attacked severely by him. _I_ did not hit the boy.'

'What did you do when he created his sphere?' Bathilda inquired.

Severus paused for a while.

'Well. I didn't... Harry was injured and bleeding and I had given him a potion. It wasn't dosed correctly though because I had been _misinformed_ about the extent of his injuries.'

'What did you do then?' Bathilda pressed.

'Well, I was going to have a look at him to make sure of the real extent of his injuries.'

'And he didn't comply?' Bathilda nodded.

'Well, no. I shut him in, but he kept running away in different directions.'

'You shut him in?' Bathilda looked incredulous.

Severus didn't like this look he seemed to receive so often now.

'Yes, I did!' he said defiantly. 'I let him have his way for quite a while, but after all, he was injured and needed treatment so I went to fetch him and then he created his sphere.'

Bathilda smiled.

 _What was this old hag smiling on about now?_

'Let me summarise that for you, Severus,' Bathilda said, ignoring his deadly stare. 'After this poor boy was dumped here by Albus, completely scared out of his wits, you gave him potions which probably made him feel awkward, never having experienced the effect of a potion in his life, and then you shut him in! You charged at him when he didn't comply with your rules. And,' Bathilda added sternly, 'I can imagine that you were possibly not wearing your nicest expression or asked him politely to comply?'

Severus fumed. 'So what?'

Now Bathilda laughed out loud.

'Severus, isn't that obvious?'

There was an angry silence.

'You gave the boy _every_ possible excuse to blast you away with his sphere. He must have been scared to hell, thinking you would just hit him like everybody else used to when he wasn't complying with any given rule –' Severus' flinch went unnoticed by Bathilda 'and yet he was only shielding himself from you.'

Severus opened his mouth and closed it again.

'You cannot expect this poor boy to trust you immediately, when he has not been able to get to know you for the last 8 years. Even old magic doesn't last forever. Probably Harry subconsciously feels that there is something about you he might be able to trust, and that might be why he tests you. But you have to earn his trust back. And that might be more rewarding than you possibly imagined.'

Bathilda looked very content now.

'I can see that I have given you a lot to think about, and by the looks of it – yes, it's that look I meant – I have hit the right nerve here. Severus, you can trust me that I have been completely honest with you, but you have to take the next step now. It's _you_ who has to decide what to make of this. And then we will talk again..'

And with that, she put down her cup of tea, dipped a handkerchief at the side of her mouth like old ladies always seem to do, turned around and stepped into the fireplace.

x x x


	16. Nightmares Disclosed

Welcome back dear reader. In the last chapter, you figured out what the Sphere is about, but there is yet so much more to discover. Hurt and heartache coming up in this one, by the looks of it both boys still have a lot to work through. As it seems, there are always some situations in which you just can't get out of your skin...

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 16 – Nightmares Disclosed**

'Do you have a headache?'

The question was genuine, yet so very _childish._ Severus sighed once more.

'No, I haven't got a headache.'

'Are you tired?'

'No, I am _not_ tired.'

'If I am bothering you, then…'

Severus held up a hand, silencing the boy instantly.

'Would you please be quiet for a second.'

Severus sat down in a second chair across the desk Harry had been studying at. Resting his elbows on the table and his chin on his folded hands, he regarded the boy for a while. Harry started fidgeting under the on-going stare, not sure as what to make of this. He would have given everything to know what was going on behind this impassionate expression Mr. Snape was wearing all the time.

Another moment passed and Harry opened his mouth. Severus lifted his index finger and Harry instantly closed his mouth again, resting his chin on the heavy book that was lying on the table in front of him.

Severus had certainly felt uneasy when the headmaster had asked him to take care of the boy.

Although he hadn't particularly _asked_.

Severus had been outraged upon hearing from Bathilda that Albus had played with him like that, meddling with everybody's life just like he always seemed to do.

But what was frustrating him most was the feeling of insecurity he had experienced since the boy had arrived. He was torn between hate for James, sadness about Lily, confusion and curiosity about Harry, and annoyed by the memories that had started to well up in him since this pitiable boy had been dumped on his doorstep.

Severus didn't know what was worse, the state in which this poor boy had been surrendered to his care or the fact that everybody who seemed to be _so_ caring kept pushing him around, not thinking for one minute about the effects this could have on the mental stability of a small child.

Certainly he had healed the child's wounds and injuries. But what was worse was the pain that lay beneath the visible scars. Severus had planned to teach Harry how to control his powers so he wouldn't produce his magical sphere again, but deep inside he knew that this wouldn't suffice.

Severus also knew that he wasn't the type of person small kids enjoyed to be around.

He was the type of guy others looked friendly next to. He didn't _care_ about children and especially not _for_ them.

Yet he couldn't forget what Bathilda had said about Lily. Possibly she had spoken to Petunia about many things, although she had only revealed some of it to Severus.

 _Why haven't you come to take care of her boy earlier?_ She had asked.

 _For heaven's sake!_ He had never spent a second thinking to take in the Potter boy. James Potter's boy! He had wanted to forget everything about Lily once she had died, but found himself unable to do so. And now, he had started to look into her eyes all the time since Harry had arrived at his house.

Severus had thought about this for a while once Bathilda had left, but he was certain: If this was going to work out, he would have to stick to the rules he had set up and that included that neither one lied to the other. And now he'd have to tell Harry that at present, there was no chance for him to return to his beloved doctor, with them being placed under the Fidelius Charm, at least until he had worked out another option.

On top of that, he would not allow anyone accuse him of misinforming the boy, playing with him like everybody else had done.

No. He would be straight with him and everybody else would have to deal with the consequences.

 _And maybe,_ the little voice in his head reminded Severus, _you know that_ _it is simply fair to be honest with the boy._

 _Shut up_ , Severus thought. He knew that Harry was only trying to make progress to be let back to Dr. Connor and not because he liked his new guardian.

With another sigh, Severus stood up from his chair and started pacing around, closely followed by the little boy's gaze.

 _Where to start… where to start?_

Finally Severus stopped in front of the table and - although this was of course very unlike him - he felt the urge to crouch down, just so the boy would be able to talk to him better, _of course_.

When their eyes levelled, Harry spoke even before Severus had said a word.

'I have done something wrong, haven't I?'

Worried brows furrowed while a small lower lip was starting to tremble.

'No, Harry. It's not that.'

The boy shook his head and tears clung to his eyelashes.

'It's about what I did last night, isn't it?'

'What?' Severus was caught off guard for a second. So immersed in his own thoughts, he hadn't thought about anything else, but a way to talk to the boy in earnest about the disturbing news that had reached him when Bathilda had told him about the necessity to protect Dr. Connor and his family.

'You know what I mean.' Harry looked embarrassed now. 'I didn't mean to scare you. Or break your window. Or.. be a _freak_... STUPID I mean,' Harry corrected himself quickly when he saw the stern look on Severus' face.

This wasn't the way Severus had planned it, but he saw a chance nevertheless. Ignoring his slightly aching knees, he remained crouched next to Harry and said

'Alright. Why were you doing it then?'

'I can't tell you.'

'Why can't you tell me?'

'You said I must not lie, right?'

'Correct.'

'And I don't want to lie to you. But I just _can't_ tell you the truth, either.'

Severus sighed.

'Are you embarrassed because of it?' he asked.

The boy didn't move.

'Do you think that I will be angry?'

Still no reaction followed.

'What do you expect me to do about it?'

Harry hung his head weakly. A timid voice replied

'I don't know. I guess you will have to punish me.'

'I was not going to punish you,' Severus replied calmly.

Actually this was not true. The truth was that Severus had been enraged and very intent on punishing Harry. But he had calmed down, made the right decision to cool off before acting rashly, and this talk with Bathilda had somehow thrown a different light onto Harry's actions. He had been very intent to have a chat with Harry about such self-harming behaviour as soon as he thought that be boy was up to it. But now that he was trying to build an earnest relationship with the boy, he wanted to start lightly. And besides, how was he supposed to punish the boy anyway?

Harry looked up.

'I don't believe you,' a small voice said. Severus hardly would have believed that it was Harry talking if he hadn't seen his lips moving.

Severus shifted his weight and got up too quickly when his feet started to feel numb, causing Harry to jump violently.

'Harry!' Severus exclaimed and instantly regretted his outburst. 'Would you _please_ stop fidgeting all the time!'

'Why are you not telling me the truth?' the boy shouted in return, jumping out of his chair.

'Are you accusing me of being a liar?' Severus lifted a questioning brow, annoyed and a little confused why the boy was always interpreting so much into his behaviour.

'Please,' Harry bargained now, 'just get it over with, alright?'

Severus remembered that the boy had used similar words before he had gone completely out of his mind the last time. When he had tried to provoke him so much to… _well_.

'Harry, I am not going to punish you!' he exclaimed again.

When the boy still didn't react, Severus remembered that orders worked best.

'Sit down on your chair, Harry. NOW.'

The boy obeyed.

'I was going to _talk_ to you, do you understand?'

A small head shook from side to side.

 _Sigh._

'The Headmaster has told you that you need to make good progress to be able to learn how to deal with your magic, correct?'

Harry nodded.

'What did he tell you apart from that?'

'Uhm. That he would be coming back and get me back to Tom if I made good progress.'

A small smile appeared on the boy's face.

'I fear that this information has not been entirely correct,' Severus replied carefully.

For a while Harry's mouth hung open before he started to speak.

'What do you mean?'

'Something we didn't foresee has happened and… I fear that it will not be possible for you to go back to Dr. Connor for a while until I...'

'WHAT?' Harry sprung to his feet.

Severus had very much expected this reaction. Taking a step back, he allowed the boy some space.

'You lied to me!' Harry shouted and red spots appeared on his face and throat.

Angry tears welled up in his eyes. Severus retreated for another couple of steps but the distance to the child wouldn't increase as Harry moved towards him, his hands balled to fists.

'All this talk about sticking to your own rules! ANY OTHER LIES?' Harry didn't pause. He didn't even want his guardian to have a chance to explain.

Harry opened his mouth again, but too incensed to continue screaming and desperate for something else to do, he ran forward and started pounding his guardian's chest with his small fists.

Severus tried to seize Harry's hands but he only started to thrash around more violently. Tears were running freely across his cheeks now.

'IT WAS NOT MY DECISION!' Severus shouted agitatedly and he felt his composure ebb away with every blow that hit his chest.

'Yes, it was!' Harry wasn't going to let anybody shove him around again and again. 'You LIED to me. You pretended to be nice. But you hated me the second I came to your house! Why did you pretend to care? Why did you even BOTHER?'

Severus gasped for air as the small fists were pounding his chest mercilessly. While the force of the blows was marginal, it was the injustice that took away his breath. He wasn't even being given a chance to explain!

Finally he succeeded in seizing Harry's fists with his own hands and pulled him to the chair, seating Harry rather roughly on it. Harry's fists still held in his own hands, he crouched down once more in front of Harry to make a final attempt to explain.

Even before he was able to open his mouth Harry pulled away from his grip.

'COWARD!' he screamed and spat him straight in the face.

Something inside Severus' mind snapped. Without being able to control his impulse, he lashed out to the boy, hitting him across the cheek. The force of the slap sent Harry flying off his chair. As he hit the floor, he edged back until he touched the wall beneath the window.

'I am sorry,' Severus gasped, eyes wide. He had taken a step back and stood a few paces away from the boy now, breathing hard, watching his right hand as if it were someone else's. 'I never meant to do this,' he said more to himself than anyone else.

'It gets easier after a while,' Harry grimaced, holding his cheek where angry red contours of four fingers were starting to show. Tears were still streaming down his face.

'I never meant to do this…' Severus repeated, still staring at his own hand.

'At first, Uncle Vernon used to say that, too,' Harry taunted, rubbing his cheek now to ease the stinging, but his guardian didn't seem to be listening.

Shaking his head slowly, Severus sat down on the floor, resting his back against the other wall facing the window. 'I never wanted to become like him,' he whispered. Harry stared at him intently.

When several minutes had passed, Harry started to edge towards his guardian who hadn't moved since he had sat down.

'What's wrong?' he tested carefully.

Harry was confused. This wasn't the way such things worked out normally.

When no answer came, he edged a little closer, just staying out of arm's reach for good measure, and asked once more.

'Are you alright?'

Severus gave a sarcastic laugh and shook his head once more, then he replied.

'I just hit you so hard that you fell to the floor and you are asking if everything is alright with _me_?'

Harry nodded, not understanding his guardian's weird behaviour.

'I…' Severus' voice faded and he closed his mouth again.

Intrigued by this situation so completely new to him, Harry dared to edge still closer. Very carefully he reached out his hand until he nearly touched Severus' knee.

'I am sorry I hit you,' Severus said to no one specific, too ashamed to look at the boy.

'No,' Harry's confusion was growing. 'I spat at you and I insulted you. I made you do it.'

'Hah!' Severus spat. 'You made me do it? Is that what your uncle would have said?'

'No, you…' Harry started again, but now Severus interrupted him. Two dark eyes searched for the confused eyes of his little ward. He wanted to make sure that Harry finally understood the concept.

'No! It was _I_ who made the mistake. I revealed something to you which was very disappointing and I intended to explain, but you had every right to be upset. After all, everybody has been lying to you. You were right to be mad at me. My behaviour was inexcusable.'

Harry was nonplussed. This was even worse than some fights he had had with Uncle Vernon. This was just so _weird_. What routine was he supposed to follow now? With his uncle, he had always known if he wanted him to apologise, stop whining, crouch at his feet and beg for forgiveness or just give him another reason to be mad at him to work off some of his frustrations... but with his new guardian...

 _And why was this man so upset just because he had hit him?_

Taking all his courage, Harry edged even further towards Severus, prodded his knee carefully asked once more

'Why are you so upset?'

If anything had ever betrayed Severus Snape's emotions, it had been well hidden, but for a fraction of a moment Harry imagined the bottom lip of his guardian tremble.

Severus took a deep breath and when he replied, his voice was controlled and even.

'Sadly you have grown up with the misconception that it is alright for an adult to hit a child, but that is not true.'

'But I annoyed you,' Harry interrupted.

Severus sighed once more.

'Nevertheless,' he continued, 'it is inexcusable to hit a child. There are other means of disciplining a child.'

'Like what?' Harry asked.

'Well…' Severus thought for a while.

'Taking away their toys, for example.'

'I never had any.'

'Or punishing them with extra chores.'

'I was already being given lots of chores and on top of that I had to do my cousins' as well.'

'Or be sent to your room,' Severus sighed.

'I liked my r…'

'No!' Severus interrupted once more, punching his palm. Harry edged back a little.

'You don't seem to understand, Harry. What you have experienced is _not_ normal. Usually kids have toys and a nice room and they love to play outside and have _privileges_ which are then taken away if they misbehaved. The fact that you never seemed to enjoy any such privileges resorted in the consequence that you were hit to be punished.'

 _And that would still be a good explanation_ , Severus thought bitterly.

Severus halted for a while. He didn't know what was more surprising to him, the fact that he managed to speak about this topic at all or the detached and analytical way in which he did it, clearly not suitable for a small boy… yet the boy didn't seem to be troubled by this approach, for whatever reason. Probably because he didn't understand the scope of what he was trying to say.

Having regained most of his composure, Severus remembered why he had needed to talk to Harry in the first place. Taking a deep breath he gave the boy a significant look which was returned to him. _Those green eyes..._

'Do you think that I can finish my sentence without having you explode again?' Severus asked carefully.

Harry nodded.

'I was trying to tell you that something has happened which forces us to reschedule your stay here and with Dr. Connor.'

'What has happened?'

Again Severus pondered for a while. _No more lies_.

'Where you ever told why you had to stay with your uncle and aunt?'

'Of course,' Harry said.

Relieved, Severus nodded.

'They were killed in a car accident.'

'They WHAT?'

Harry looked a bit taken aback now. His guardian had sprung to his feet again.

'I am sorry, I thought you knew,' Harry said quietly, remembering that he had been told that his guardian and his mum had been friends.

'They were killed in a car accident when I was only very small. That's why I got this scar here,' Harry nodded significantly, pointing his index finger to his forehead.

 _There is no possible way,_ Severus' little voice pondered. _No way you can tell him the truth about THAT._ Desperate, he tried to come up with a possible explanation. For a while he stared at Harry, wondering what might be going on in the small child's head right now. Just when he was about to agree to Harry's information, a small voice inside his head piped up that wasn't his own. It was _friendly_ and in a way so familiar.

 _It's alright, Sev,_ the voice said. _He doesn't look like it. But he is strong. He can take it._

Intuitively, Severus turned his head, skimming his surroundings. Harry followed his gaze.

'What is it?' he asked.

'Nothing.' Severus' mouth was a thin line.

 _Don't be afraid._

 _He will tear down my house_ , Severus thought. There was no way he could possibly convey what had happened to the _child_ in a child-friendly way.

 _Yes you can._

Severus wondered why his own inner voice, so eager to bother him all the time, wasn't defending him now.

 _Just give it a try._

'Fine!' Severus said angrily, causing Harry to look very confused.

'I am sorry. What do you mean?' the boy asked, quite intimidated by now.

'I didn't...' Severus started uneasily. Had he really said this out loud? Those pathetic voices had to stop!

'Harry, I have to tell you something about your parents that will probably upset you a lot. But there is no other way to put it and I don't want to lie to you, do you understand?'

'Yes,' Harry nodded vigorously.

'Your parents did not die in a car accident. They were killed.'

 _Silence._

'Why?' Harry looked troubled.

'It is not that easy, Harry. What have you read in _A History of Magic_ until now?'

'Well…,' the body fidgeted. He hadn't expected to be quizzed now and couldn't see what this had to do with their present conversation.

'Certainly you will have read that there have always been wizards and witches, right?'

Harry nodded.

'And you will also have read that, just like with Muggles, there have been good and bad wizards. One bad wizard gained so much power that everybody feared him. Those who fought him rarely had a chance but nevertheless it was very important that they tried. Your parents were two of those people trying to fight him.'

'And he killed them?' Harry asked.

'Yes. While they were trying to protect _you_.'

' _ME_?' Harry's mouth opened. 'But why would he want to kill me?'

Finally, Severus thought, for once a discussion is heading into the right direction.

'You are very special, Harry. Your magical abilities are very advanced and you have great potential.'

'But…,' Harry started but was interrupted.

'No, Harry.' Severus continued undeterred. 'You are very special. You were a big threat to this wizard who tried to fight anyone who could become dangerous to him. Your parents sacrificed their lives for you to stay alive.'

'So…,' it was evident that the boy did some hard thinking. 'Did he die? That bad wizard?'

'No. Well. Some people said he died, but it's not that easy. There is no proof that he has really gone. Some believe that he still exists, somewhere, in whatever form, waiting for his return. AND' Severus pointed his index finger right at Harry now, causing him to sit up very straight, 'this is where you come into play.'

'I?' Harry asked again.

'Yes. You need to be able to learn how to protect yourself. Not with your sphere,' he added, seeing the look on Harry's face, 'but with controlled magic. You can't rely on luck or intuition to defend yourself all the time. You have to become aware of what you are doing at any time. This is vital.'

Severus paused. What was the boy thinking now? Had his prep talk caused him to take these news so calmly now? Or was he so overchallenged by it that the information hadn't even sunk in yet?

Grateful that Harry hadn't exploded a second time, Severus regarded the boy. He had actually managed to speak to him in a normal fashion, for one second forgotten that he was the supposedly arrogant Potter brat he had dreaded to meet for such a long time _._

x x x

Harry was lying in his comfortable bed and rolled back to his stomach, for what felt like the thousandth time this night. He had to admit that this had been one of his better days recently. After all, he wasn't in pain anymore and it felt nice, for a change, not to be hurting. Yet this day had given him so much to think about.

After a bad start with his guardian – now he was sorry that he had spat at him – he had been very surprised to discover that he was actually sticking to his own rules. He hadn't lied to him. Actually he had even told him the truth about his parents.

For the first time in his life, somebody had! Later he had even offered to answer any questions Harry might have had, but he had refused. There had been many, but he didn't want to give away his emotions, his thoughts, just yet. So he had been allowed to wander the grounds, play in the garden and discover his new home.

Only interrupted by lunch and later dinner, he stopped his wandering through the gardens and returned to the manor which he started to like more and more. Intrigued by the moving pictures, he had discovered that some were inhabited by wizards or witches that would actually talk to him – if you were polite enough. They even aided him in finding his way through the manor, but by the evening there hadn't been much need to ask anymore as he was finding his way fairly well by now.

There was a moment of awkwardness when Harry had been put to bed. It seemed that neither Harry nor Severus were familiar with a regular bed time procedure, so Harry had been told to brush his teeth, changed into pyjamas Severus had supplied him with, and finally went to his room with _A History of Magic_. His guardian had kept his promise and Harry had gone to bed, read until his eyes had become tired – and yet he was lying here and couldn't fall asleep. There were just too many things he had to think about. Too many unanswered questions.

Harry found himself wondering what Aunt Petunia and Dudley could be up to. Or Uncle Vernon. Although he certainly didn't _miss_ him. He was just being curious. And Petunia _had_ been trying to be nice to him, after all…

Also, he had to think about Tom and closed his fist around his panther's fang for a second. His guardian had said that they would find a way. He would just have to give him time to make some arrangements, but it didn't depend on Harry's behaviour the way it had sounded. That'd be nice, seeing Tom again.

Rolling back onto his side, Harry punched his pillow in shape and closed his eyes, still thinking of Tom, a smile on his face. Before he noticed, he had fallen into a deep sleep.

x x x

The small boy stared at the enraged man.

'I don't know what happened!' he pleaded. 'The money just disappeared.'

'You are a LIAR! You stole it!' the man thundered.

'No, I promise. I was just playing and then it disappeared…'

'Money doesn't just disappear, you FREAK!'

The man was white with rage. With long strides he closed in on the boy, yanked him by his arm towards the door, turned the knob and pushed the boy into the wet street. It was raining. The force of the movement had sent the boy flying to the ground, scratching his knees on the stones on the road. The boy stumbled to his feet again, pleading.

'Please don't… I will get it back somehow.'

'You better will, or don't bother to come back!' the angry man shouted his reply.

With a bang the door was closed and the scene disappeared.

Moments later the boy found himself hiding behind some trees. He had stolen some money from playing kids nearby – one was crying desperately now, getting chastised by her sister for losing their lunch money. But the boy didn't care. In an undiscovered moment he ran back to his house, relieved that he would be able to return the vanished money somehow. Upon his return to the house, the man stood in the hallway, even angrier than before, holding the re-appeared money in his hands.

'You think it was funny to hide this from me?' he thundered. 'Annoy me, just for the fun of it? Think it is funny to joke around with money since we have so much of it?' His voice was dripping with sarcasm now.

The boy tried to slip the note he held in his hand back into his pocket, but failed to do so unnoticed. Angry eyes followed his movements.

'Now you are in trouble,' the man spoke with an icy voice and crossed the hallway with few quick strides. The boy backed away but stumbled and before he could run off, two strong hands had gripped his arms painfully.

Again the scene disappeared and reformed moments later.

The boy was much older now. Taking in his surroundings, he couldn't figure out where he was, he just noticed the coldness and darkness crawling under his skin. Every bone is his body was aching and he desperately wished to be somewhere else. He started thrashing around with his hands and feet, scratching at the wooden boards closing in on him until he felt the darkness lose its intensity. The basement door was being opened and he could make out a tall silhouette standing in the frame, unbuckling his belt, slowly moving towards him. He tried to edge back, but found an invisible force restraining him, he wasn't able to move.

Desperate for something to do he started to shout. At first, it was only a feeble call, but soon it gained power until the boy was shouting forcefully.

With a gasp, Severus Snape awoke.

x x x


	17. Opportunities

Hi dear reader and welcome back. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. Let's see how the story develops after someone was in for a rough night...

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 17 – Opportunities**

Severus' face was pale and sweaty. His heart was pounding against his chest.

 _This was ridiculous._

The most evil wizard he had faced, lived through unspeakable tortures… and yet nothing came close to these fears inside him, stuffed down to the depth of his heart, _nearly forgotten_.

He had gotten over it – at least that's what he had always been telling himself – and continued with his _manageable_ life. But since Harry had arrived at his doorstep, beaten, broken, and insecure, long forgotten memories had resurfaced.

 _Although_ , his little voice interjected, _he doesn't seem to be so broken after all._

Unconsciously, Severus nodded. Harry had indeed proven to possess a quite strong character. Although they had only touched the surface of many problems as it seemed to Severus, Harry had behaved in a rather normal fashion for a child – maybe even too normal, regarding his position. He seemed to be able to adjust, willing to learn.

There was something in his eyes that was desperate to scream out to the world that he was still alive. _Those eyes._

Wiping off the sweat of his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, Severus got up. Taking a look outside his window, he realised that the moon was still standing high, illuminating the gardens in front of the manor way down to the forest where they were absorbed by constant semi-darkness.

Suddenly he turned around and headed for the door in quick strides. Opening it very silently, he walked across the hallway to Harry's bedroom. Although the walls here silenced many noises, they were still on the same floor so it couldn't hurt to check, just for good measure.

With a faint creak, the door opened. Moonlight fell onto the soft cushions of Harry's bed.

It was empty.

With long steps Severus reached the bed almost instantly. He crouched down and looked under the bed – still Harry was nowhere to be seen.

Just when Severus cast a suspicious glance at the re-built window, he heard a little sob coming from inside the wardrobe. He held his breath and there again… very faint… were a few sobs, hardly audible for anyone less attentive than Severus.

'Harry?' His voice was edgy.

No reply.

'Harry?' Severus asked again, his voice still strained.

The sobs stopped, yet there was no reply.

With a sigh, Severus moved to the wardrobe and opened one door. Although it was not spacious, Harry had managed to hide beneath some longer coats hanging from the clothes rail, pressing a jumper to his face to muffle the sobs.

Severus reached for the jumper and lowered it with reassuring force until two wide eyes were looking at him fearfully.

'Harry, what's wrong?' Severus asked.

Still there was no reply.

Severus thought about yanking the boy out of his stupor but decided against it. Harry's behaviour was alarming him.

Desperate for something to do, Severus crouched down opposite Harry. It wasn't very comfortable and there was an unpleasant smell to the wardrobe, but at least their eyes were levelling now. In a way, Severus felt relieved that he could take care of Harry now, distracted from his own nightmares.

Severus realised that the floor was quite cold. He was only wearing black pyjama trousers and a black shirt. With his knees in front of him and his arms rested on his knees, Severus tempted for his most reassuring smile – if there was anything like it in Severus Snape's emotional repertoire – but the boy did still not move. Instead he started to mimic Severus' movements and hugged his knees to his chest. Then he started rocking back and forth softly.

'What's wrong?' Severus asked again, but still there was no reply.

'You know,' Severus started conversationally, 'it's a rather pleasant night. Have you seen the full moon yet?'

A small nod followed.

'I can only speak for myself, of course' Severus' voice was still very strained, 'but I rather enjoy the night-time. It is calm and peaceful, the moon…'

'I don't...' a timid voice said. He hadn't even seen Harry's lips move.

'How come you don't?' Severus asked.

'Dunno…' the boy was shifting his position now, but still didn't dare to get up.

'Why are you not sleeping, Harry? Is there something wrong with your bed?'

'No, it's fine.' Harry said miserably. 'I… it's just…'

'What is it?'

'Nothing.'

 _Sigh._

'What it is, Harry?' Severus asked again, his voice carrying a tinge of impatience now.

The boy looked up to him, still undecided.

'Look, Harry,' Severus tried once more. 'I know we have only known each other for a very short time, but I think that I have been very straightforward and honest with you. You know that you can trust my word. I won't laugh and I will _not_ get mad. Does that sound fair?'

A hesitant nod followed.

Severus thought that he was being more than fair. After all, he had previously promised Harry not to ask about his injuries and he hadn't. _Well._ It had been obvious anyway. But that was not the point. The point was that he had promised something and stuck to that, and Harry had no reason to believe otherwise.

The frown on the child's forehead disappeared when the boy came to the same conclusion.

Slowly, Harry leaned in on Severus, his voice conspiratorially soft.

'You will get mad.'

'I just told you that I won't,' Severus sighed. 'But you have to tell me what is bothering you, otherwise I cannot help you.'

'I wet my bed.' Embarrassed sobs accompanied this confession.

Of all things, that was probably the least Severus had expected. After all, the boy was already nine years old! Uncomfortably, Severus shifted from one foot to the other. Now able to identify the unpleasant smell, he felt disgusted.

'Well that can happen,' he said, but his voice still carried this edge.'

When big green eyes looked at him, ready to spill those unshed tears, he quickly raised his wand. 'Nothing we couldn't clean up easily, alright?'

When the boy still didn't move, Severus got up and turned to the bed. Retrieving the covers, the smell of urine stung his nose. With a small fluid movement of his wand, the smell and dampness vanished, the sheets straightened out, and the pillows shook themselves up in a comfortable, inviting position. With a nod, Severus turned around again.

'There you go Harry, good as new. You see?'

Miserably, the boy nodded.

'I imagine that you would prefer to change into other clothes, too? Unless you allow me…' he waved his wand at Harry who nodded timidly.

Again, there was a fluid wand movement and seconds later, Harry ran his fingers across clean and comfortably dry clothes.

'Would you mind getting out of that wardrobe and talk to me now, Harry?' Severus asked.

With tiny movements, Harry started to edge towards the wardrobe door and finally got up, standing in front of Severus, hanging his head miserably.

With some quick strides, Severus reached the bed and seated himself on it, gesturing to Harry to do the same.

Hesitantly, Harry followed, sitting down at the other end of the bed as if to bring as much space as possible between him and his new guardian. Almost instantly he hugged his knees to his chest again.

'What happened tonight?' Severus asked, his face not betraying a single emotion.

'I got scared.'

'What scared you?'

'I… I was dreaming … stuff… you know? And suddenly I thought I'd heard someone screaming, really loud.'

At that, Severus' expression hardened. He was relieved that it was too dark for Harry to make out his expression as he was sitting with his back against the window. It was Harry who was facing the window, moonlight falling onto his pale skin.

Severus didn't know how to reply to this. This night hadn't been particularly easy on him, either. Shifting a little bit in his seat, he slowly said

'Sometimes we all do dream scary things.'

Harry looked up but still couldn't make out his guardian's expression. Instead he said

'In my dreams, everything feels so _real_ , you know? Like everything happens _for real._ But I can't do anything about it. It is just like I have to stand by and watch it happen.'

Severus felt the uncomfortable lump in his stomach again. Why was the boy always touching a nerve?

For a while, both sat and stared at each other, not betraying their thoughts. After what felt like ages, Harry spoke up once more.

'If I promise to be very quiet. And promise that I won't bother you. Or say anything at all… would it be alright if I stayed with you? Just for the night?'

A pained, fearful expression accompanied Harry's face that rivalled his guardian's expression now. For a second, Severus thought that he hadn't heard correctly.

Harry, the _Potter_ boy, was asking to stay with _him_ , for comfort?

Again, he looked intensely into the pale moonlit face, those dark green eyes, and wondered what the boy might do if he left him alone in this state, now. Certainly he didn't feel up to more drama this night.

After a long pause, he said with an even voice

'I can't see why not, Harry.'

Slowly, a smile spread on the little boy's face.

'Let's go then,' he said and got up from the bed. Grabbing Harry's blankets he added 'take your pillows, please' and walked to the door, followed by the small boy, hidden beneath two giant pillows.

Back in Severus' bedroom, he enlightened a fire in the small fireplace next to his bed. With another flick of his wand he conjured a mattress and several sheets right in front of the fireplace.

'Do you think that will do?' he asked the boy.

With a grateful nod, Harry placed his pillows on the mattress and lay down without another word.

With an awkward feeling, Severus placed the blanket on Harry and moved towards his own bed again, before the impression of him tugging in the Potter boy would make its way to his consciousness.

'Good night, then,' Severus nodded curtly to the snoring blanket.

The boy had already fallen asleep.

x x x

Albus was facing Bathilda with a hesitant smile. He wasn't keen on reliving the recent episode, but firstly, he had placed Vernon in St. Mungo's by now, and secondly, Bathilda was looking less angry than before. At least that was what he hoped her less-than-deadly stare was supposed to communicate.

'I can only repeat what I said to you already,' he started. 'I am very sorry that things worked out this way. I thought that I was making the right decisions, but obviously I have been very wrong.'

With a neutral expression, Bathilda nodded. Then she added

'But what do you think will happen from now on? What about Harry and Severus? And Petunia, Dudley…'

'Well,' Albus pondered his thoughts for a while. He understood that he was kindly being asked an opinion, but that he didn't have much say in this anymore.

'I think Harry is placed in good care with Severus. But maybe it would help both to make this arrangement more… permanent.'

Bathilda's mood seemed to lighten up considerably upon hearing this. With a nod she replied

'That is _exactly_ what I thought. After all, there are also the legal matters to be considered. Of course,' she added, 'Severus will have to have the final say in this. And Harry's opinion should be considered too. That's the least we can do.'

Albus nodded in agreement while Bathilda pondered the unspoken question.

'If he were to become Harry's permanent guardian, he would not only be entitled to provide a permanent shelter for him, he would also be in charge of making the most basic decisions for the boy – and unless he is put in this position and guaranteed some sovereignty, I cannot see how he can fully attend to Harry's needs.'

Again, Albus nodded slowly.

'Perhaps you can speak to Severus about this matter and I could make some arrangements with the Ministry of Magic.'

Glad that Albus had understood her subtle hints, Bathilda nodded. Of course, she had good relations to the Ministry too, but her ambitions had always been less _political_ than Albus' had seemed to be. While she had been content with a purely scientific exchange of expertise amongst professionals from the Ministry and other fields, Albus always seemed to have been connected to those in power in another, more feasible way. For him, it was easy to get whatever he wanted. Yet there was one last thing…

'I am glad that you are of my opinion, Albus,' Bathilda started conversationally. 'Yet I think it would help a great deal if _you_ spoke to Severus.'

Upon this, Albus looked up, obviously displeased. 'Dear Bathilda, I am sure that I am the last person he wishes to speak to right now…'

'Nevertheless,' Bathilda interrupted curtly, 'I think it is _high_ time for an apology, don't you think so?'

'He won't accept it,' Albus replied.

'No,' Bathilda agreed. 'I'm sure he won't. But that's not the point, is it? It's about you admitting that you have hurt his sovereignty by making decisions over his head. How could he possibly consider taking custody over Harry if he himself did not feel completely self-reliant, but always dependent on your good will? No Albus, this is not about you or your hurt pride. This is about the boy. _Both_ boys for that matter.'

There was some finality in her voice and something told Albus that this part of the discussion was over.

'I will send an owl as soon as I can and see if he is willing to have a conversation.'

This seemed to please Bathilda.

'What about Dudley and Petunia then?' Albus asked, trying to move towards steadier grounds again.

'Well,' Bathilda was hesitant. 'For the moment, I am happy for them to stay with me. I doubt that they will be able to return to their home. It doesn't seem very safe to me now that Bellatrix has been there. I don't know if she would go looking for them back there, yet I wouldn't want to risk it. I guess we will have to look for something suitable, if Petunia wishes to do so. She doesn't seem keen on going back to her house. Or maybe her neighbourhood I should say. She is afraid of what people might say. And until we have found something more permanent to offer to her, she and her boy may stay with me in the meanwhile.'

'How are they coping?' Albus asked.

'I am not sure, Albus. Petunia seems relieved although I can tell that she is tormented by her inner struggle. After all, it is a lousy situation. As for the boy, I think he is only starting to digest what's happening now. I am not sure what to do about him, to be honest. I guess that is up to Petunia to decide. After all she will know how to handle her little boy best. At least that's what I hope', she added, a tinge of scepticism in her voice.'

Slowly, Albus shifted in his seat.

'There is a serious talk coming up anyway, so why don't you take the opportunity and start to amend.'

Slowly, Albus looked at her, then back to his long fingers that were folded in front of his chest.

'I,' Bathilda added, 'have some more talk coming up myself.'

When Albus looked surprised, she added in a conversational tone

'I understand that Petunia is a victim here, too,' Bathilda begun. 'But nevertheless, I think she stepped aside too easily and let her husband do whatever he liked to the boy. And, although she may not have been as physically violent as her husband was, I believe that more than often she has been quite cruel to the boy. I do plan to have her leave again unless this issue is sorted.'

With a small nod, Albus signalled his agreement.

x x x

The boy had been whimpering in his sleep. Severus Snape lay in his bed, facing the ceiling, a book resting on his stomach. The fire had burnt down by now. All that was left were the embers radiating pleasant warmth from the fireplace.

Severus had tried to go back to sleep. Possibly he had closed his eyes for a couple of times in the last hours, yet it felt like he hadn't slept at all.

Interrupted by occasional whimpers and mumblings of the boy, which sounded like 'please' and 'don't', he had listened to his irregular breathing. When he hadn't been able to go back to sleep, he had ultimately conjured a book from the 'Muggle Studies' section of his library which was considerably well equipped and started on a book about child psychology.

 _It couldn't hurt to understand a couple of things_ , he had thought.

For purely professional reasons, of course.

A feeling had manifested itself in his stomach that a neutral bystander would possibly have labelled as _protective_ or _caring_. To Severus, this still felt very bewildering, he liked to think of himself as merely monitoring the boy's behaviour in order to act appropriately.

The boy shifted from one side to the other once more, now facing away from the fireplace and towards Severus' bed. Automatically Severus lifted his head a little bit and turned right to look at Harry. Apparently, the boy was still asleep.

Turning back to his book, he took it up and turned the page. The psychologist who had written this book suggested that traumatized children needed to voice their terrors in order to avoid serious psychological illnesses later on. Mentally, Severus ticked off a list of behaviourisms Harry had sported – at least as far as he could tell by now. But how was he – of all – supposed to provide Harry with a safe environment to face his fears and voice his thoughts?

Somehow, this was difficult. Severus was a proficient autodidact and used to learn anything he needed to know from a book, usually within days. But whether it was the way in which the book was written, the matter of subject, or simply his own hesitation to dive too deeply into the subject, it didn't seem to be working this time.

'Confront his fears,' Severus mumbled slowly and stared at the page.

It seemed like it was all there. The boy just needed to put it into words.

Severus thought about letting Harry write a journal, but dismissed the idea quickly. That was not the point after all. Whether the boy kept his thoughts all to himself or wrote them down in a journal wouldn't do the trick, Severus was sure. The boy had to voice them, somehow _confront_ them. But how?

With another flick of his hand, Severus turned the next page, and the next after that, and the next one, but there were no helpful suggestions. Apparently, it seemed so clear to the psychologist that she hadn't considered spending a single sentence on how the confrontation should proceed.

Again, Severus' mind drifted off, his glance locked at the fireplace. The small bits of ash that flew into the air occasionally had a hypnotising effect, made him relax somehow. And suddenly, an idea struck Severus' mind and with a smile he lay the book aside, rolled to his back and fell asleep.

x x x

The rest of the night had gone well. Although Severus had only slept for a couple of hours, he had been awake just before Harry was. When the boy woke up, Severus already sat on his bed, fully dressed and watched his ward intently. With a flick of his wand, Severus had made the mattress, blanket, and pillows disappear – the disappointed look on Harry's face did not go unnoticed – and announced that it was high time for breakfast.

As soon as they had arrived in the kitchen Severus had noticed a letter on the kitchen shelf, next to an opened window. An elegant handwritten note was attached to it.

' _Dear Severus. I know that I am the least person you wish to speak to right now, but I kindly ask you to hear me whenever you find the time. I think there are a few things that still need to be discussed and some others, which should not pass unsaid, either._

 _Albus Dumbledore_

With a silent nod, Severus had read through the notice. Although he hadn't planned it like this, it would work out equally well.

'Have you finished your breakfast yet, Harry?' Severus asked now, noticing that Harry had started to stir his cereals unenthusiastically.

With an anxious look that carefully tried to measure Severus' mood, Harry put the spoon aside and crossed his hands in his lap, looking down, properly ashamed of his behaviour.

'Sorry,' he mumbled. Uncle Vernon had never dismissed him, playing with his food, being ungrateful, without a punishment.

Severus sighed, but decided not to comment. He knew that such habits were hard to shake off.

'Do you have anything in mind you would like to do today?' Severus asked conversationally.

Harry looked up in surprise.

'What do you mean?'

Sometimes the boy was really slow on the uptake, Severus thought with a smile hidden underneath his schooled features.

'Well, some activity you enjoy.'

Harry thought about this for a while.

He had always enjoyed visiting the playground back in Little Whinging. But here there didn't appear to be one close by, let alone other kids to play with.

Then, a furrowed brow betrayed Harry's thoughts.

'What is it, Harry?' Severus asked.

'You have been telling me all this stuff about Hogwarts and I was wondering if you would be able to take me there at some point. It would be nice to see what it is like, you know?'

 _Just what it's like to be normal for once_ , Harry added mentally.

He was desperate to meet some other kids who were supposed to be like him. He couldn't quite imagine yet that all his freakishness was supposed to be something regarded _normal_ by the magical world.

Severus was pleased about the sudden opportunity that had presented itself to him and with a smile he nodded.

'I will let the Headmaster know that we will be visiting in the afternoon, until then there are some preparations I have to make.'

A genuine smile appeared on Harry's face and Severus noticed that he managed to look into the child's eyes without any of the resentment he had preserved for the Potter Boy all this time.

'I think it would do you well to accompany me to the library, then you can continue reading the book I gave to you and I will be able to make my preparations.'

With that, Severus turned around sharply and moved towards the library with quick strides.

Constant shuffling noises that trailed his steps asserted him that the boy was indeed following.

In the library, he motioned towards the desk Harry had been studying at and the boy resumed his place at once. With a flick of his wand, _A History Of Magic_ hovered towards the desk until it fell down in front of Harry with a thud.

Immediately, the boy began reading.

With a curt nod, Severus moved towards another desk standing next to another high window in the room where parchment and quills lay prepared for someone who did a lot of writing.

Severus decided that another letter sent by owl would take too long to be delivered. After all his idea had been quite spontaneous after all. He moved into a different section of his library to a fireplace from which he could contact the Headmaster.

Taking a pinch of floo powder from a bag resting on the mantelpiece, he threw it into the fireplace. Then he said 'Albus Dumbledore's Office' to the green flames very clearly.

Only seconds later, Albus' head appeared in the flames, looking rather pleased, much to the annoyance of Severus.

'Dear Severus. You have received my letter,' the Headmaster began.

'Yes', Severus replied curtly. 'And I wish to speak to you about something we need to arrange. It concerns Harry's wellbeing and it of utmost importance.'

Without giving Albus a chance to say a word, Severus continued, the Headmaster listening very attentively.

x x x


	18. Taking Responsibility

Hi guys. I have resumed this story so if you came here because of an alert you received, I understand that you might need to go back and catch up on the story first. For those of you who are new to this, I hope you enjoyed the story so far. In the last chapter, Harry got a chance to speak to Severus after a rough night and it seems that both started to open up the slightest bit. After studying a Muggle book on Child Psychology, Severus had an idea how to help Harry sort out his issues and while he is eager to have a go, there is some talk with the Headmaster coming up first.

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 18 – Taking Responsibility**

Harry struggled to keep up with Severus' quick strides. He was hardly allowing him to take in the new surroundings… Harry had never seen such a forest, such a huge lake, and such a _castle_ for that matter. If he had imagined Hogwarts to be something special, his hopes had not been disappointed.

'Where are we going?' Harry asked for the third time, causing Severus to look slightly bemused.

'I thought that was obvious.' Severus replied, gesturing towards the castle.

Harry looked slightly insulted.

'That's not what I meant. I was wondering whether we were going to meet someone there.'

Suddenly, Serverus understood Harry's repeated questions and regarded them in a different light.

 _Was the boy possibly even less intent on meeting the Headmaster than he already was?_

Severus stopped, turned to Harry, and crouched until their eyes levelled. He put his hands on Harry's shoulders and waited until the boy looked him steadily in the eyes.

'Listen, Harry. I know that the last few days have been very hard for you and I understand that there are some persons you might not want to see at the moment. But it is important to speak to the Headmaster once, after all this is his school. Once we will be done, I have something very special to show to you.'

'Like a surprise?' Harry asked curiously.

With the tiniest smile, Severus nodded.

'That's unless you already know where we are heading?'

'To the Headmaster's Office,' Harry replied, but before Severus could reply, he noticed the grin on the boy's face.

 _Had he actually just been humorous?_

'Trust me,' he finally said. 'The surprise I had in mind is much better.'

'Like what?'

'You will see.'

Severus turned around and resumed his walk towards the castle with quick strides. He thought about the arrangements he had made and wondered if this was the right decision. Then he decided, that – at least until now – the advice he had taken from a book had never disappointed him and that he was on the right track.

Ten minutes later, two gargoyles, slightly bemused at Harry's bewildered expression, let the two visitors pass and Harry found himself in the most peculiar office he had ever seen in his life.

Actually, he had only seen the offices in his school, but of those he had seen a lot as Dudley had constantly managed to get him into trouble or at least make everybody believe that it was Harry to blame.

Yet, this was nothing to compare. Funny instruments, moving pictures, and on top of that a beautiful bird in the middle of the room…

A bit shielded from view, right behind his desk, stood Albus, a hesitant smile on his face.

'Hello, Harry. Severus.' He gave a polite nod.

While Severus returned the gesture, Harry only moved a step closer to his new guardian, as if to bring some space between himself and the Headmaster. This gesture did not go unnoticed by either of the men, one looking rather hurt, the other one quite content.

Deciding to break the awkward silence, Albus gestured towards two comfortable chairs in front of his desk.

'Please sit down, sit down. I believe there is something we have to discuss.'

With a worried expression, Harry looked at Severus, but his guardian just nodded curtly.

'It's okay, Harry. You have nothing to worry about. Remember, the surprise.'

This time it was Albus who looked bewildered.

 _How could Severus already know about the permanent arrangements Bathilda had suggested for him and Harry?_

And what he could imagine even less was Severus speaking to Harry about this so openly.

Severus interrupted the Headmaster's inner monologue, maybe a bit more harshly than necessary.

'What it is you want to say, then?' he asked.

'Well, if you want to get to the point right away, Severus', Albus said, 'let me make this very short. You have been dealing admirably with this situation'

'Into which you brought me in the first place,' Severus stated coldly.

'And,' Albus tried to keep his calmness, 'it made me realise something I should have seen long before.'

Severus raised a brow ever so lightly.

'I had some... conversations... Things have changed. Harry cannot go back to his family and I am very heartbroken to say... Harry cannot go back to Dr Connor either.'

Albus glanced towards Harry who had been listening intently. Yet, to the Headmaster's surprise, the boy's expression did not convey any emotions.

 _There is so much those two boys have in common_ , he thought.

'I have already told him so,' Severus stated smugly. I _have been honest, old man._

When Albus didn't reply, Severus cast a questioning look at him, that easily translated to ' _So what?_ '

The headmaster continued.

'I have said that for now it would be best for Harry to stay with you. I realise that this was wrong.'

'Don't you dare...,' Severus started, alarmed by his own irritation.

'No… no!' Albus realized too late that he had left the wrong impression. With his hands in the air, he added: 'I did not intend to suggest removing Harry from… What I meant to say is that I think that it is high time to make the current arrangement more... _permanent_.'

There. He had said it. Now it was his turn to wait for a reaction.

Harry turned his head towards Severus, who in turn looked at the Headmaster with an unreadable expression.

 _Severus Snape as the permanent guardian of Harry Potter?_

Angry at the headmaster that he had – yet again – made some decision over his head, and confused at the same time, he did the only thing that seemed sensible to him. He turned to Harry and asked

'What is it you want?'

The boy gulped, shocked to have been asked so straightforwardly for his opinion. A few seconds passed, then he shrugged his shoulders.

'Would you want to stay with me?'

Harry looked surprised. Clearly he had not expected to have a say in this matter after all.

He opened his mouth... and then shut it again.

Severus felt uncomfortable, two pairs of eyes resting on him.

 _Why is it always me who has to sort things out with this boy?_ he thought.

'Harry,' he then continued, some finality in his voice. 'If it is your wish, and considering the lack of alternatives, I would be willing to take care of you.'

 _You don't mind it,_ his inner voice exclaimed. _Why can't you just let him know?_

 _Shut up!_ Severus scolded his inner voice.

Harry started shifting in his chair, his feet dangling a bit above the ground. After a while, his gaze locked with Severus'.

'If you think that you can put up with me, I would like to stay. I guess,' Harry added carefully, searching for any reaction in his guardian's unreadable expression.

This was not the type of conversation Harry had expected. He had looked forward to his surprise and to seeing other children who were supposed to be like him. He had wanted to feel more normal, less like a _freak_. But this, he hadn't expected.

'Well,' Severus said, 'that's settled then. It is my turn to demand something of you, then,' he added coldly.

'What is it you require?'

'The Room of Requirement.'

Albus looked up in question, but Severus' mimic didn't betray a single thought. Yet it clearly communicated that no questions on this matter would be answered lest taken notice of.

Slowly, Albus nodded.

'It is all yours.'

With that, Severus rose from his chair, his little ward copying him instantly.

'You have said what you wanted to say. I wish to speak to Harry alone now.'

Severus turned around and walked away, the little shuffling noise trailing him reliably.

Albus had opened his mouth to add something, and then closed it again. Obviously there was no room in Severus' heart for any apologies, conversations or whatever he had thought of to make up for his errors.

x x x

Harry had followed Severus for several minutes now. He hadn't stopped or said anything and Harry started to wonder whether Severus had been genuinely happy with the Headmaster's suggestion. He seemed so... irritated.

After a while, Harry stopped. Noticing the lack of shuffling behind him, Severus halted and turned around.

'What is it, Harry?'

'Are you mad at me?' Harry's voice was barely a whisper.

Severus sighed.

'Why should I be mad at you?'

The boy seemed to ponder this for a while. Obviously he didn't want to make a mistake, yet he was clearly trying to say something important.

'Listen,' Harry started. 'I can understand that you couldn't say anything else when we were in the Headmaster's Office, but you don't have to...'

'No!' Severus interrupted.

Harry flinched.

'Look!' Severus pointed his index finger at Harry, causing him to retreat a few steps. 'This is exactly why I didn't know how to talk to you. You always seem to think that everything is _your_ fault. But it is not. _Nothing_ has been your fault. You are a child! Please, for once, act like a CHILD!'

He looked into sad green eyes, framed by a very pale face.

'I don't understand,' the boy hung his head miserably.

'Harry,' Severus said in what he considered to be a rather soft voice. 'I can speak for myself and if I had wanted to reject this agreement, I would have done so back at the Office. I know that this is difficult for you. After all, you have only been with me for a very short time. And obviously there are some things we will have to get used to. But if you are willing to try, so am I.'

With another sigh, Severus walked back to Harry and squatted next to him until their eyes levelled. Putting his hands on Harry's shoulders, he continued.

'It certainly won't be easy. And still the same rules apply when you are staying with me. But I promise you that you will be safe with me.'

Carefully, Harry shifted to one foot to the other.

'I will never beat you. I will never hurt you. And if I get upset and shout at you, there will probably be a good reason, although I will try not to.'

After a pause, he added

'You know what it is like to have these habits one simply cannot shake off easily, right?'

Now, Harry nodded empathically. Finally there was something he understood easily.

'So please, let us sort this out once and for all. Are you willing to stay with me? Permanently? This does not mean that you will not see your Aunt or cousin, or hopefully Dr Connor and his family, at some point, again. It simply means that I will be your guardian and responsible for your safety and well-being. And that I will ensure that you grow up in a healthy and safe environment.'

 _Like somebody should have done long ago._

Severus furrowed his brows. He wasn't trying to bond with the Potter boy. Well, Harry had only been in his life for such a short time. Yet there was something special about him. And you didn't abandon long-fostered habits easily, such as not showing any emotions...

Severus' inner monologue was interrupted by Harry who had met his gaze and nodded ever so lightly.

'But what if I mess this up again?' he added, again this sad notion to his voice.

'Harry,' Severus said sternly. 'There is nothing you could mess up. And nothing you could do wrong. But actually, there is something else I need you to do.'

Now the boy lifted his brows, looking curiously at his guardian, happy for something to do that ended this awkward situation.

'What do you want me to do?'

'There is a very special room in this castle,' Severus continued. 'It is beyond your keenest imagination, but it can be everything you need it to be.'

'And we will visit that?' Harry smiled genuinely. 'And I get to decide what I want it to be?'

'Well, not quite.' Severus interrupted, caught off guard by the sudden enthusiasm the boy showed. 'Maybe we will just get there and I will explain in due time.'

x x x

Petunia found herself seated opposite Bathilda again. In a way, she liked this woman. She was resolute and straightforward. With her, you knew where you were. Yet, she was disquieted by the talk to come.

When she stirred her tea for the thousandth time, Bathilda looked at her, a little impatient. With a sigh, Petunia started.

'I know you are right. And there is nothing I can do to excuse my behaviour. It always felt wrong, you have to believe me.'

'Why did you act like this in the first place, then?'

When Petunia opened her mouth again, Bathilda raised her hand.

'No, I want you to seriously think about this. I do not want to hear your well-rehearsed explanations or justifications, one could rather say. I want to hear what turned you into this person you have become.'

The words had hurt, but Petunia felt that she didn't deserve any better. Finally, she began to speak.

'It's my sister. Her special abilities. Powers I never had. I always wanted to be like her, seeing how our parents always treated her as someone special. They were so happy for her. And I was left out, nothing special at all.'

Bathilda looked at her for a while, contemplating. Then she asked

'But did your parents ever make you feel second-best?'

Before Petunia could answer, a guilty pang hit her. She knew that they hadn't. It had always been her, committing herself to so much pressure, expectations so high she could not fulfil.

'No.'

'How does Harry come into play, then?'

'It is difficult…'

'I am sure I will catch up.'

'Well. Imagine what it was like. All the years I had experienced what it was like to be normal, without anything special at all. And compared to me there was my sister. First it was that school she was allowed to visit, then the friends she made. Imagine what it felt like to have her return home for the holidays, always new stories about what she was allowed to experience first-hand. How could I ever have competed with that?'

'But who made you compete?'

Again, there was a silence.

'We were always quite alike. Nothing could separate us, she would always rely on me. And then, all just became different. I never felt so betrayed in my entire life. She begun this new life, so many experiences that formed her expectations. It was like nothing could stop her.'

'You do realise that no everything was as glamorous as you put it?' Bathilda intervened slowly.

'Ha!' Petunia coughed. 'She got this awesome husband and my entire childhood I was left without any real friends, without anyone to rely on, never special enough for my parents. And when I finally met a man who genuinely seemed to care about me, I married him!'

Bathilda nodded.

'I loved Vernon because he took me for what I was. He never expected anything special. He just liked me the way I was. Finally, I thought I would have a little family of my own and let go of everything that had been withheld from me for so long.'

Petunia took a sip from her tea, then she continued.

'Then Dudley was born. I hadn't spoken to my sister besides the occasional Christmas or birthday cards, and then we had the boy heaped onto our doorstep.'

'You realise that this only happened because your sister and her husband were killed? Killed by the most powerful wizard that would then hunt down their only child?'

Petunia became aggravated now.

'Of course I know! But don't you think that I should have had a right to refuse? I was never allowed to be part of this world, and suddenly I had no say anymore?'

'And this,' Bathilda appeased, 'I can fully understand. But then why didn't you just refuse and got rid of Harry (at this Petunia squirmed) right away? Instead you agreed to keep him and what good it did him…'

Petunia clenched her fists, her knuckles white.

'I just didn't feel that I had the strength to refuse! You know Albus! All this talk about the blood wards and the necessity that it was Vernon and I who had to take the boy in. I was taken by surprise and before I realised, it was too late.'

'How come you couldn't just accept him for what he was?' Bathilda asked, carefully circling the point.

'He just reminded me so much of my sister, of all I had tried to forget. And when he started to show this _freakish_ behaviour, I knew he'd be just like her. You couldn't expect that I would let Dudley make those experience I had to live through.'

'So, you thought making Harry feel as miserable as possible would do your son any good? Or _you_ for that matter?'

That silenced Petunia.

No, she hadn't really felt any better, to be honest. But somehow, she had grown accustomed to her behaviour. At some point she had thought that by treating Harry unfairly, he would just hate her and not care about her insults anymore. But somehow, he had never been willing to do just that.

Showing more insight than felt right for Petunia, Bathilda nodded.

'Children do not hate easily. And I am sure neither did you. It must have been difficult, but certainly, your way of dealing with any hurt feelings hasn't been the best. For neither of you. And now, although I am sure that this wasn't the way you had planned it out, you finally got rid of Harry. I congratulate you to this.'

Bathilda hadn't meant for it to sound so cynical, yet she wasn't able to hold back some of the resentment she felt, despite all her understanding for the situation Petunia had been placed in.

'Just tell me one last thing,' Bathilda continued when Petunia didn't answer. 'Was it Vernon who joined in or how come he got this… _attitude_?'

Again, Petunia had to think for a while. Certainly, she would never admit that she had married the next-best guy that had shown any interest in her, only realising much later that not all was golden beneath the shiny surface.

'I guess sometimes it takes a while for some attitudes to show. Once Harry stepped into our life, I realised how opposed Vernon was to anything out of the ordinary. It reinforced my rejection and ultimately, things just developed the way they did.'

'How will you make up for it then?'

At this, Petunia glanced up in surprise.

'You mean Harry is coming back?'

'Well.' Bathilda sighed. 'No. He has been placed in somebody else's care. Yet, at some point I am sure, it would do you – and Harry – good to speak about what happened. Whenever you are ready for it, but more importantly, when he is ready for it. At some point he will have to voice his hurt. That is how people normally deal with trauma and hurt emotions and unless they do, they will never leave them behind.'

With that, Bathilda grabbed her tea cup and emptied it in one swallow.

It had become cold.

x x x


	19. Facing the Fears

Hi dear reader and welcome back. In the last chapter, Severus became Harry's permanent guardian and they figured that they have to work through this together. But committing to it is only the first step. Little does Severus know what is coming up for him. Let's see how they really manage and what Severus thought of to help Harry cope...

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 19 – Facing The Fears**

Harry couldn't remember where he was anymore. He had trailed his new guardian for ages, taken many steps and sometimes even hidden paths until they returned to floors that seemed familiar. He felt like he was going in circles and the occupants of all those portraits eying him intently didn't really help, either.

When he was just about to ask whether they had taken a wrong path, he bumped into the Potion's Master who had suddenly stopped.

'I am sorry, I am sorry', he stuttered, retreating a few steps when Severus had turned around with a raised eyebrow.

'Don't worry', he replied. 'Nothing to be sorry about.' With a smug look on his face, he added, 'We have arrived at our destination.'

Harry looked around. He saw nothing special in this floor. Was this the Room of Requirement? What could they possibly want here?

Guessing Harry's thoughts correctly, Severus smiled to himself.

'Not quite there, yet. We have to open the secret entrance.'

Curiosity kindled, Harry watched closely as Severus strode several times across the floor. Suddenly, there was a stony grinding sound and a huge door appeared in front of them where seconds before had just been a massive wall.

Before he could say something, Severus crouched in front of him.

'Look at me Harry,' he began. 'It is very important that you listen to me now, right?'

The boy nodded.

'What we are going to do now will be something like a little… _therapy_.'

When the boy tensed up, he put his hands on his shoulders and squeezed them reassuringly.

'Don't worry. I will be at your side and nothing will happen to you. But I think that you need to deal with some issues before we are able to work on your magic.'

'What do you mean?'

'There are bad things that have happened to you.' Severus took a deep breath before he continued. 'Your uncle hasn't treated you well and deep in your heart there is all this fear, hurt, and a lot of anger balled up.'

When Harry still looked concerned, he continued.

'You know this feeling, Harry. It's like something is burning you from inside, and sometimes it just grows too strong, it overwhelms you.' Slowly he tapped at the boy's chest.

Harry nodded, looking down at the hand of his guardian that rested on his shoulder now.

'And that is when your accidental magic often takes over.'

'And you want that to stop.'

'Not exactly.' Severus shook his head lightly. 'I don't want to stop your magic. I want to stop the reason why it surfaces uncontrolled. I want you to deal with those issues inside you and not hide them somewhere, because if you do that, they will come back again and again.'

Intently, Harry watched his new guardian now.

'Why didn't _you_ do it then?' Harry asked.

Severus' grip hardened for a few seconds, causing Harry to jump.

'Sorry!' Severus quickly added, stroking the boy's shoulders gently now. 'I didn't mean to.'

After a pause, he said

'For the time being, we are dealing with you, right?'

Slowly, Harry nodded. 'So, what's inside this room?' Again, concern showed on the boy's face. 'Wait! You didn't put Uncle Vernon in there, did you?'

Harry had paled considerably.

'No,' Severus held up a Hand in appeasal. 'Listen. It is like I said. Nothing can happen to you in there. The room is exactly what you need it to be. And at the moment you need a safe place to confront your fears. I will be right at your side and you will do fine.'

Obviously, this explanation had only further confused the boy.

'In there', Severus continued 'is something like a virtual reality. You may experience things you cannot otherwise, but THEY ARE NOT REAL. It is only your imagination. Inside, we will have a look at what you fear most and deal with it. If we do, you won't have to put up with it ever again because you will know how to handle it, okay?'

It sounded so easy, yet Severus knew that it certainly would be everything else but a cakewalk.

Again, he squeezed Harry's shoulders lightly.

'Are you ready then?'

Shyly, the boy nodded, then both stepped into the Room of Requirements.

Inside, the room looked very small. Harry didn't know why, but somehow he had expected something bigger. The whole castle had been huge. There had been so many pathways, so many doors, hidden passages. And here, they were in this small room. It was plain, and without any furniture.

After a few moments, Harry looked around. There was a window on one side and daylight was falling onto the floor. Then he jumped.

In one of the corners that was considerably darker than the rest of the room stood a man he hadn't seen before.

Squeezing his eyes and edging closer to Severus, he tried to make out that person.

Severus hadn't moved since they had entered the room. Finally, he felt something tug the sleeve of his shirt. When he looked down to the boy, Harry beckoned him to come closer.

Slowly, he leaned down until the boy's lips were very close to his ear.

'That's not Uncle Vernon', Harry whispered.

'I know,' Severus replied with an icy voice. 'It's my father.'

x x x

Severus was furious. This was not what he had thought of! He tried to remember how he had formulated his request precisely.

 _Give the abused child room to face his fears._

Damn! How could this stupid room possibly have misunderstood his request!

But before Severus was able to ponder on his thought, he was interrupted by the man standing opposite them. Suddenly, the dark figure had moved and stepped out of the shadows.

Harry didn't even have a chance to hide behind his new guardian, as Severus had already taken a step forward and shoved Harry behind himself with one arm, shielding him from view.

The man didn't seem interested in the gesture, in fact, he hadn't taken any notice of Harry at all.

'See who we've got here', he snarled. His eyes, mere slits, were resting on Severus.

Harry felt how his guardian's arm held him tightly behind his back.

'What's happening?' Harry tugged at Severus' arm urgently, but got no reply.

Severus watched his father intently, still unable to say something. Here stood the man he had never intended to see again. And now he did, and so unexpectedly. It simply caught him off guard.

'Still the stupid _freak_ we know?' the man uttered. 'Lost your voice, boy?'

Severus took a deep breath before he finally managed to speak.

'What do you want?' he pressed.

His father gave a dry laugh. 'You know what I want.'

'And I can't give it to you,' Severus replied.

At this, his father's gaze grew angry.

'Still haven't learned a single damn thing?' he asked with a cold, dangerously quiet voice.

As he took a few steps forward, Harry saw that he was swaying dangerously, just like Uncle Vernon did when he had had a few drinks too much.

'NO!' Severus shouted back, agitated now. 'It's YOU who doesn't understand. Magic is nothing to be learned, nothing to be passed. You are simply not capable of doing it!'

'That's what you want me to believe!' The man yelled, and little angry spots appeared on his face. 'That's what your stupid mother tried to tell me all along! Do you really think that you can keep it from me forever?'

Harry noticed that Severus' hands were shaking now. Yet his voice was steady.

'Mother never kept anything from you. She explained it to you all along. YOU. CANNOT. LEARN. MAGIC. Either you are born with it or you are not. Most people wouldn't even be aware of the fact that there are magically talented people out there, but…'

'Oh! Well, _excuse_ me', his father interrupted, 'that I am neither talented nor aware.'

'You are twisting my words!' Severus shouted, but was interrupted again.

'So you think I should be grateful for all you did to me?'

Severus looked incredulous. 'What _we_ did to _YOU_?'

Harry edged a little closer to his new guardian, still hiding behind his back. He had expected to meet Uncle Vernon in here but suddenly, had found himself in this awkward situation.

And what was even worse, his new guardian, who had wrapped him with the feeling of security moments ago, seemed even more agitated and afraid than he was now.

Carefully, he put his arm on Severus' back and tried to stroke him gently. Yet, the Potion's Master didn't relax, he only reached behind his back again mechanically, shoving Harry from view.

The man had taken another couple of steps and now swayed only an arm's length away from Severus' face. Instinctively, he took a step back, pushing Harry into the corner of the room as he retreated, shielding him from the man's reach.

'Still trying to play your little game, Severus, don't you?'

Severus was breathing hard now.

'I am NOT. PLAYING. GAMES. Why won't you just understand!'

'Oh!' his father interrupted him. 'You are calling me stupid then?'

Swaying dangerously once more, he rubbed the back of his hand with the other. Harry noticed that he wore many rings and cringed inwardly.

At a loss, Severus started to lose his temper.

'That's not what I SAID for Merlin's sake! I…'

'Don't you DARE use such names in my presence!' his father yelled, balling his ringed hand into a fist and shaking it menacingly into Severus' direction.

Severus was paralyzed. He felt the little boy behind him nudge him. He even whispered things like 'you can protect us' and 'just make him go away', but he felt unable to move at all. All he saw were the angry dark eyes of the man he had hated for such a long time.

When Severus still didn't move, the man seemed to lose his patience. With one large step, he swayed towards Severus, lunging out to strike, but before his fist connected with Severus' face, the man was blown back several steps into the far corner.

Harry looked up towards his new guardian who still hadn't moved. His eyes were closed as if he was waiting for something. When _something_ didn't happen, Severus finally opened his eyes tentatively.

Confused, he looked to the man in the far corner and then to his little ward.

'What happened?' Severus inquired, but it wasn't the boy that answered.

 _You are here. You are finally here._

That voice! It couldn't be!

Slowly, Harry nodded. 'That's what it's like on the inside.'

With deeply furrowed brows, Severus tried to take in his surroundings. Only then he realised that something like a silvery barrier was surrounding them, like a huge bubble.

Looking into the corner, he saw that his father had sprung to his feet again. Obviously, he was very agitated and shouting, yet Severus could only hear muffled sounds. None of the nasty words permeated the sphere.

'Who spoke?'

'What do you mean?'

'The woman. Haven't you heard her?'

Slowly, Harry nodded. 'Sometimes she talks to me.'

Severus ran his fingers through his hair.

'What does she say?'

Harry shrugged his shoulders. 'Usually not much. She calms me and says that everything is alright.'

After a pause, he added 'She told me that you are alright.'

With a high-pitched laugh that one could easily have confused with a cry, Severus smiled involuntarily. It felt like his heart had been stabbed. All the hurt, all the pain, and now she was talking to him, with her soft, lovely voice.

'Please talk to me!' he shouted desperately.

Harry tilted his head lightly. 'But I _am_ talking to you.'

'No, not you! Her!'

'Do you know who she is?' Harry asked eagerly.

'Yes,' Severus replied, a stray tear running down his cheek. 'Lily.' After a pause, he added, 'your mother.'

Bewildered by the sudden wash of emotions, Harry felt the need to comfort his new guardian. He beckoned him to squat down next to him and when Severus did, stroked away the tear with his thumb.

Suddenly, Severus gripped Harry's hand, holding it tightly to his cheek, closing his eyes for a few seconds. More tears streamed down his cheeks and when he finally looked at Harry, he said

'You look just like her.'

 _And I love you, too,_ the voice said.

Again, Severus looked around, but Harry shook his head.

'I have never seen her. It's like she's in my head. I can simply hear her voice.'

Realising that the voice had only distracted him from the obvious, Severus suddenly turned around, motioning to his father.

'What about that?'

Harry quirked a brow. 'What do you mean?'

'How did you do that? Why?'

'He was going to hit you,' Harry stated simply.

For a while, Severus' expression grew hard. For a long time, he had not felt so powerless, so unable to do anything. Before he could explain, Harry nodded.

'I know. You don't want to hurt him.'

Severus gave a dry laugh, but Harry shook his head.

'Don't laugh. You know.'

Shifting slightly to his other foot, Severus decided to change the topic. 'Still you haven't told me how you did this.'

Harry shrugged his shoulders. 'It just happens. It is like the voice is telling me what to do. She protects me. And _you_.'

'But why!' Severus cried out. 'You don't know what it has been like. We knew each other a long time ago, but when we separated, we weren't friends anymore.'

Slowly, Harry shook his head once more. 'That's not true.'

'How would you know?'

'She told me.'

With that, Severus collapsed to the floor. Burying his head in his hands, Harry watched how his shoulders started shaking slowly. Carefully, he edged towards his new guardian, patting him on the back gently.

Severus did not move for a while, until the patting became more urgent.

When he looked up, sudden realisation dawned on his face and his sad expression turned into a frightened grimace. Harry looked very pale and had started shaking slightly.

'We have to leave. NOW!' Severus shouted. He felt his senses coming back to him. He was able to think clearly now. Taking Harry by the arm, he dragged him towards the door, but Harry just collapsed to his knees.

'Let's get out!' Severus said and with that, lifted Harry into his arms. Without difficulty, he manoeuvred himself and his little ward through the entrance door and slammed it shut behind them. A moment later, he was standing in the seventh floor again, the boy hugged closely to his chest.

'Thanks', he muttered to Harry, but the boy seemed to have fallen asleep.

x x x


	20. New Developments

Hi dear reader and welcome back. In the last chapter, Harry and poor Severus were in for a shock in the Room of Requirements while we learned a bit more about Severus' childhood. In this chapter, there is lots of heartache, hurt, and comfort again. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 20 – New Developments**

Severus' mind was racing, yet he knew there was only one sensible thing to do. With haste he carried the boy to the hospital wing.

The medi-witch looked up from some sheets she had been folding when Severus arrived with the new little patient.

'Severus,' she greeted him in surprise. 'How can I help you? Or rather your little patient?'

Gesturing towards an empty bed, Madame Pomfrey scurried towards the little boy. She stroked a flick of hair from the boy's forehead and froze.

'But that's Harry Potter!' she exclaimed.

Severus raised an eyebrow, feeling no desire to comment on something so obvious.

Now it was the medi-witch's turn to furrow her brows.

'How come you are taking care of Harry Potter? What is he doing here?'

Skilfully she waved her wand over Harry's body while firing more questions at the Potion's Master.

'Pomfrey, please!' Severus interrupted. 'Will you deal with the more pressing needs first?'

The little witch huffed slightly, but continued with her diagnostic spells. Suddenly her expression grew very earnest.

'What?' Severus asked, stepping towards her, but the medi-witch only shook her head as an indication not to be interrupted and with another flick of her wand summoned a piece of parchment and a charmed quill.

With great speed the quill made its way across the parchment, adding line after line to the paper.

Severus tried to get a look at what it was writing, but he couldn't read it without getting in the way of the medi-witch's work.

It was unnerving to watch the quill add more and more diagnoses to the document.

A couple of minutes passed during which the medi-witch seemed to examine every part of Harry's body. Finally, she let her wand sink. The parchment slowly dropped to the bed.

Instantly, Severus snatched the document from where it lay, aware that the little medi-witch was watching his expression closely, her eyes mere slits.

Severus' eyes wandered across the lines and his expression hardened. Of course he recognised the injuries he had treated the boy for. Also, he had seen the scars. Line after line he made his way through the document that vouched for Harry's miserable childhood until he was distracted by a slight pressure on his arm.

Looking up, he saw the calm eyes of the medi-witch resting on his face.

'Oh, Severus,' the medi-witch patted his arm lightly, 'After all those years?'

Silently, Severus nodded.

'I patched you up pretty well back then' Poppy said quietly, 'and trust me my skill hasn't decreased in all those years.'

'Naturally is hasn't,' Severus nodded stiffly.

He didn't like being reminded of this day. It had been one of his worst, for sure, besides the constant confrontation with his father that was, of course.

That day had been particularly hard. He had arrived at Hogwarts for the first time in his life and been thrilled by his surroundings. Instantly he had been sorted into Slytherin and many of his new fellow students appreciated his natural skill and talent. For once, he had been included.

The new headmaster had seemed nice at first, but soon Severus realised that he was too nosy for his liking. He knew that curious people tended to ask the wrong questions that would ultimately end him up in more trouble, and more questions respectively.

He had been young and stupid. And when the headmaster had summoned him to his office, he had obediently followed. And they had talked. He hadn't meant to tell this stranger about his sorrow, all the pain he had experienced in the last couple of days before he was to see Hogwarts for the first time. How his father had made sure to make a lasting impression on him before he would be away for months.

Other things had been on his mind. He had looked forward to seeing Lily again. To be finally united with the girl he had loved the instant he had seen her. But all had gone wrong. Firstly, he had gotten into a fight with that arrogant Potter who would constantly drive a wedge between the two of them, and then, Lily had been sorted into Gryffindor.

He had felt betrayed, lost, alone, and incredibly hurt. Even his bruised body couldn't numb the pain that had started to spread from his heart. And when the only person willing to talk to him had summoned him, caught off guard, Severus had spoken of what nobody was supposed to know.

Of course, Albus had been pained to see one of his students abused. Instantly he had sent him to the medi-witch, much younger but already as tough a woman as she was now. He had offered to talk afterwards, too, but Severus had refused to do so since.

The moment he had entered the hospital wing this woman had assured him that all would be fine. Of course he had not believed one single word of it, but somehow she was different from the headmaster.

She hadn't asked stupid questions. She hadn't commented. She hadn't bothered him at all.

With calmness and reassurance she had treated his injuries until, for once in a very long time, he wasn't in pain anymore.

'There are some scars I will not be able to heal,' she had said, sadness carrying in her voice.

'Never mind,' young Severus had commented, but only earned a stern look for it.

'No, boy. That's not the attitude that will get you through life. It's not about ignoring such scars. It is about dealing with what has happened.'

'You just did,' he had answered, uncomfortably shifting from foot to foot.

'You misunderstand. It's the inner wounds I am talking about; the heart-ache that comes with such things.'

When he didn't comment, she put her hand on his shoulder and added

'I know someone who is very capable of dealing with such issues and I would be happy for you to see her.'

At this, Severus had shrugged off her hand and shaken his head.

'As you wish,' she said. 'But know that this is a standing offer. You may come and see me whenever you wish.'

And then he had left. Healed from the physical pain, it only took him a couple of days to believe that it hadn't been as bad as he had imagined it. He must have exaggerated it. After a week, he was sure that his mind had played some tricks on him and after a month, he was sure that he had never felt better. He concentrated hard on learning new skills, and his Head of House, Professor Slughorn, was thrilled to see him exceed in Potions.

Again, there was a gentle pressure on Severus' shoulder which made him jerk back to reality.

Two concerned eyes were looking right into his.

'I see that you have treated many of his acute wounds already,' she said, 'but I assume that you have not performed any diagnostic spells yourself?'

Severus could not help but notice the certain accusation her voice carried.

'It's difficult.'

'I'm sure I can catch up.'

Severus pondered how much information he wanted to disclose.

'He has magical outbursts. Whenever he feels threatened he creates this sphere and although he seems to be able to control its existence to some degree, it does drain his energy. He doesn't seem to be aware of it. Or chooses not to,' Severus added.

'I have already seen to his loss of energy. I have given him a Dreamless Potion and maybe, for once, he can sleep undisturbed. It will assist his recovery greatly.'

'I thank you for this,' Severus nodded politely.

'Not so quickly,' the medi-witch interrupted, sticking her index finger into Severus' face.

The quirked eyebrow signalled her to proceed.

'You haven't told me why Harry has been placed in your care, yet.'

 _Wasn't it obvious?_

'I guess the Headmaster considered my skills to master mind-controlled magic beyond any doubt and entrusted me with the task of teaching Young Harry to control his outbursts.'

'But you are aware that you have to tackle the problem at the root, and not simply suppress the symptoms, aren't you?'

Grinding his teeth, Severus nodded.

'I thought the Room of Requirement would be an adequate space to help him confront his fears.'

Slowly, Poppy nodded. 'That would answer my second question, but not the third.'

'And what would that be?'

'You seem to be even more shaken than the boy.'

It wasn't particularly a question.

'I may have grown... accustomed to the boy. He seems, after all, different from… from what I expected him to be.'

Poppy smiled, a bit too amiably for Severus' liking, but only said 'I am happy you see it that way.'

'You are aware that you are just sounding like the Headmaster?'

At this, Poppy smiled weakly. For the last time this afternoon, she patted Severus' arm lightly.

'I will leave the two of you alone now. It's still holidays and, as you can see, thankfully the flood of patients has not descended upon me, yet. I want to make use of the time and see to some preparations.' With that, the little lady turned around and marched to her office.

Unsure what to do next, Severus pushed a chair closer to the bed and sat down. With his head resting in his hands, he tried to relax, but was unable to do so. His mind started to wander while his gaze followed suit, taking in everything that was in the hospital wing.

Minutes passed and suddenly he jerked up when he realised that, quite unconsciously, he had started to stroke the boy's head. Carefully, he scanned his surroundings but the medi-witch was nowhere to be seen.

x x x

Poppy had been sitting in her office for a while. She had watched the Potion's Master comfort the boy. She smiled at a thought that suddenly struck her. She had never understood why everybody considered Severus Snape to be a master of disguise, a human being with a perfectly controlled mind. To her it seemed that he presented his feelings and thoughts right on a silver plate.

Of course that wasn't what Severus Snape would have seen. And neither seemed anybody else.

With a sigh, she decided to do what she had wanted to do such a long time ago, got up and walked straight towards the next connected fireplace available. A pinch of floo powder and a few emerald flames later, she was gone.

x x x

Severus jerked awake when he realised that, yet again, somebody had been patting his arm. This time, the hand was much smaller than the medi-witch's. It had been the boy.

Straightening his back Severus looked at Harry who had flinched equally violently.

'Please don't.' Severus' voice carried a tinge of sadness.

'Don't what?' Harry asked.

'Don't flinch every time I move. As if I were to...'

A lump formed in Harry's throat. _He didn't mean to... he just couldn't help it. But even when he tried, Things just seemed to get..._

'Never mind,' Severus said, his voice very even. 'Tell me how you feel.'

'Fine, I guess,' Harry said to his fingers. 'How long have I been sleeping?'

Severus' gaze wandered to the windows. It was already dark outside.

'Well, at least long enough that we have to postpone my surprise…'

'What surprise?' the boy inquired, eyes wide open.

'Don't you remember?' Severus paused deliberately, amused by the effect it caused. 'I told you that you were in for a big surprise and, no, the Room of Requirements was not what I meant,' he added. 'Actually, I planned to take you to Hogsmeade, but it is too late for that by now.'

'What is Hogsmeade?' Harry asked eagerly.

'A magical village where only wizards and witches live. It is full of interesting shops and,' Severus halted, as if unsure whether he should really disclose this piece of information, 'they even have a sweet shop called Honeydukes.'

Noticing the blank look on the boy's face, Severus teased

'You know what sweets are, don't you?'

'Of course, I do!' Harry huffed. Much quieter he added, 'I just never got any.'

Then he remembered the toffee Tom had given him on the very first day they had met. Well, he hadn't really had a chance to eat it as Aunt Petunia had made him surrender it and bumped his head into the car door when trying to get away from the doctor's as quickly as possible. So, Harry guessed, that didn't really count.

Instead, he raised a brow at his new guardian.

'What is it?' Severus inquired.

'Nothing,' Harry mumbled.

'Spit it out!'

The Boy had hugged his arms around his knees now.

'Well. It's just… I never thought that you'd want me to have sweets or anything like that. When I came to your house you put up all these rules and no, no, NO!'

Harry cringed under the look that had been cast upon him.

'Those were good rules! GREAT rules! I am sorry!'

Severus suppressed a grin. He nodded curtly and Harry continued. 'I just didn't expect that you wanted me to eat sweets.'

'I don't want you to eat sweets,' Severus corrected.

'But…' Harry opened his mouth again but was silenced with a single stern look. Then his guardian's face softened the tiniest bit.

'I want you to have a normal childhood!'

x x x


	21. Sympathy

Welcome back dear reader. In the last chapter, Severus hurried Harry to Madame Pomfrey when his excursion to the Room of Requirement didn't work out as he had it laid out. It gave them a chance to bond, while we learnt a bit more about Severus' past. Unfortunately, that also means that Severus' idea to therapy Harry didn't work out at all and that he has yet to think of something else. Let's see what both are up to once Harry has recovered a little...

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 21 – Sympathy**

Severus was sitting in his study and cast a look outside the window. The rainstorm had been raging for hours now and didn't appear to be stopping anytime soon.

It was uncharacteristically cold for this time of the year.

He had sent Harry to his bedroom to get some rest. Naturally the boy had protested, and eventually Severus had given him permission to take a book with him. After all it couldn't harm if he read a little and did something for his education.

A sudden pop drew his attention. The fireplace had sprung to life. Seconds later, Poppy's head was beaming at him.

'May I step in?' she inquired friendlily.

'Certainly,' Severus nodded, rising from his chair.

'I am sorry to intrude on your privacy, but something has been on my mind I wish to discuss with you.'

For a moment, Severus' gaze lingered on the robust lady, then he signalled her to follow.

'I suggest we go to the living room, you will find it more comfortable there.'

With a smile on her face Poppy nodded and followed Severus through the halls of the grand mansion.

'Your mother's place, I assume?' she inquired.

'Yes.'

'Are you still taking care of the other property in Spinner's End?'

'There is no necessity.' The answer was curt.

'What do you mean?'

'I have not returned to this place for a very long time and, frankly, I don't care whether it has become a decrepit ruin by now.'

'So it is abandoned now?'

'I don't know,' Severus said indifferently.

'Oh, Severus!' Poppy exclaimed. She had come to a halt in front of a large picture in which the tree tops of a distant forest were swaying peacefully. 'You can't tell me that after all those years you haven't been there once?'

Severus cast her an icy look. 'Is it that you wished to speak to me about?'

He felt the urge to turn on his heels and manoeuvre the medi-witch right back into the fireplace, but Poppy shook her head.

'No. Well, not quite. It is about the boy.'

'Naturally,' Severus sighed and waved his hand along the floor. 'Please, let us proceed.'

Moments later, Poppy had entered the spacious living room. 'Can I be straight with you?'

'By all means. Would you like a cup of tea?'

'That would be very friendly of you,' Poppy beamed and seated herself in a comfortable chair next to a small desk. Severus snapped his fingers, and instantly a little house elf appeared.

Again, Harry's comments on keeping slaves around the house returned to his mind, but he shook them off angrily. Having misinterpreted her master's gesture for impatience, the house elf fell to her knees, sobbing instantly.

'Me so sorry, Master! Ellie was just dusting the shelves in the kitchen!'

Teary eyes were looking at him and before he was even aware of it, he shook his head lightly and said

'This wasn't directed at you.' Tapping his fingers against the top of the small table, he added, 'Fetch us some tea.'

'Yes, Master!'

Instantly, the elf scurried away and reappeared only moments later with a tray laden with two steaming cups of tea, sugar, and biscuits. She placed the tray on the little table between the two wizards and retreated quickly.

'I see you kept her,' Poppy noticed, helping herself to some biscuits.

Severus raised his brows. Of course he had! He couldn't just have abandoned the elf because his mother wasn't there anymore.

'Naturally, she is a helpful servant.'

'Of course, she is,' Poppy nodded friendlily, now adding sugar to her tea. Gesturing towards a cushioned chair close by, she added, 'Seat yourself.'

'What is it you wanted to speak to me about, then?' Severus asked, refusing to move. 'Be blunt.'

'Very well then,' the little medi-witch replied, putting her cup down. She fidgeted a little in her chair.

'I contacted an old friend of mine who is more than willing to assist you in dealing with Harry's issues.'

'And why would you think that I needed any assistance.' Severus' voice was again very cold.

'Oh please, Severus!' the medi-witch shook her head impatiently. 'You haven't even dealt with your own childhood trauma. How are you supposed to straighten things out for this child, then?'

Her face turned rosy under the look Severus bestowed upon her, yet her voice was strong when she looked up into his hardened face. 'You asked for blunt, young man.'

Severus opened his mouth, but was interrupted by the resolute woman in front of him.

'This is not about questioning your abilities! I was merely following my heart and did something I should have done a long time ago.'

She bowed her head and, for a moment, Severus saw that some tears glittered in her eyes. It was impossible to knock the stuffing out of such a person, even when he felt anger rise inside him.

'Let me hear your brilliant plan, then,' he said brusquely.

'I talked to Bathilda.'

'Bathilda!' Severus exclaimed.

'Yes!' Defiance spread on Poppy's face. 'She is perfectly suited for this and you very well know why!'

Unwilling to play along, Severus did not comment.

'She is the most empathic person I know, she has known Harry's whole family from a very early time, and I trust her unconditionally.'

Severus raised a brow at the implication of it, but still didn't say a word.

Although every string in his body was rebelling at the thought, there was some truth to it. He had attempted to deal with the issue professionally, read books. Up to this point, books had never failed him. And still things had gotten out of hand. Maybe it was time for a new perspective. From a professional point of view, of course. And he could not help but appreciate the brilliance of Bathilda's mind.

'What have you had in mind?' he inquired politely.

'Well,' Poppy replied, pleased that her expectation of being shoved right into the next fireplace for a one-way-trip back to her office hadn't eventuated yet. 'That depends on you entirely.'

'Explain.'

'You said that you wanted Harry to be able to confront his fears, correct?'

'Correct.'

'Well, apparently it didn't quite work out,' the medi-witch stated.

'Get to the point, woman!' Severus felt that it was completely unnecessary to point this out.

'You can't paint without colour.'

'I SAID get to the point,' Severus repeated slowly.

'You cannot confront fears without the equipment to deal with them. You can't put the cart before the horse.'

'That's ENOUGH of your wisdom for one day!' Forcefully, Severus slapped the tea table in front of him, causing the cup to clatter loudly.

A stern look met the Potion Masters' eyes.

'Don't you lash out at me simply because _you_ are frustrated by your own shortcomings, young man!'

'Poppy!' Severus explained. He didn't appreciate being adressed like a naughty school boy.

'I will make it short then,' the medi-witch continued, her cheeks flushed now. 'I asked Bathilda if she were willing to help you, just to provide some guidance and share her experience with those matters, purely professional of course. And,' she added, 'the decision is – of course – entirely up to you.'

After a while, she added with a significant pause

'And you haven't considered the most important aspect of it yet.'

'And what would that be?' Severus asked.

'She is currently housing the boy's aunt and cousin. Dudley is his name, I think? I believe that would be immensely helpful.'

'Another confrontation?' Severus raised one brow.

'Not necessarily. Actually, I thought that this way Petunia would be able to take into consideration several perspectives.'

At this, Severus snorted.

'Who cares about the perspective of this wretched woman!'

With disgust he remembered Petunia with her horsey face, her ignorance to everything magical, and her deep envy and hatred.

'And this is EXACTLY why you need help!' Poppy scolded. 'How are you supposed to help the boy when you keep away the only chance of reconciliation from him! After all, she is his aunt and he is bound to love her.'

'Love her!' Severus slammed his fist on the table in front of him, finally sending the empty cup to the floor where it shattered to pieces. Poppy had sprung to her feet.

'Don't you DARE talk to me like this, boy!'

Severus clenched his fist and gave a curt apologetic nod towards the resolute woman.

'Of course, he loves her! She is his aunt! And if you allowed yourself for one second to regard your childhood realistically, not in that twisted and contorted way you appear to deem manageable, you would appreciate that even you must have felt love for your parents at some point. Craving for their sympathy, their recognition, their praise!'

'ENOUGH!' Severus thundered, grabbing the armrest of her chair forcefully.

Poppy looked at her troubled counterpart and smiled.

'It is entirely up to you. She ensured me that whatever your decision will be, she will accept it.'

Again, Severus nodded curtly.

'Don't you do that to me,' Poppy shook her head slowly.

'What are you talking about, woman?' Severus was unnerved.

'You can't fool me,' the witch said and then added, very quietly, something that sounded very much like 'hard shell, soft core.'

'I must be going then,' Poppy suddenly said, springing to her feet. 'I thank you for your time and the tea. Just before I leave,' she added, 'would you allow me to see after my little patient once more?'

'Certainly,' Severus nodded. 'I sent him to his room. To get some rest!' he added quickly when the medi-witch cast him a stern look.

'Very well, after you,' Poppy smiled.

She had to hurry to keep up with the quick strides of the Potion's Master who seemed determined not to slow down at all. In silence they ascended the steps to the top floor. Stopping next to Harry's bedroom, Severus knocked twice. When no one answered, he grabbed the door knob and opened the door silently.

The sight hit him like a shock. On the floor lay countless pages of _A History Of Magic_ , apparently ripped from the binding with a lot of force. A chair was lying upside down next to the window. The doors of the wardrobe hung open. It looked like everything that had been neatly hung up inside had been thrown to the floor.

Altogether, the room left the impression that a rhinoceros had gone berserk recently. Yet there was none to be seen. Not even a little one.

Severus looked at Poppy who stood terrified at the door, her mouth hanging open.

'Harry Potter!' Severus shouted, but nothing moved.

Trusting in the Unbreakable Charm he had placed on the window, he brushed away the thought that Harry had yet again done something stupid to hurt himself. And after all, of course, there was no broken glass this time. Crouching to his knees, he peeked under the bed. Curled up in the far corner lay the familiar ball of pity that had been added to his household so recently.

'Harry, please come out!' he said with as much reassurance in his voice as he could muster.

Rolling his eyes as he had to go over all of this yet again, Severus started his monologue somewhat mechanically.

'Whatever it is, I am not mad. Please come out, so we can talk. I will NOT hit you, I will NOT hurt you. I JUST want to check that you are alright.'

Impressed with the resilience Severus was showing, Poppy closed her mouth and with crossed arms leaned against the door frame, watching the scene intently.

Severus just started to wonder what he was supposed to do when Harry wouldn't come forth voluntarily – certainly he couldn't start counting again! – when he heard a little shuffling noise. Slowly the tiny ball edged forwards from its hiding place underneath the bed and halted a good arm's length away from Severus.

The boy didn't look up. Actually he didn't move at all and was rigid with fear.

Severus put a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder, but it only caused the boy to tense. Resisting the urge to pull back the hand, he instead put his other hand on the boy's other shoulder and shook him lightly.

'Please look at me!'

Nothing happened. The boy seemed to brace for a blow.

 _For Merlin's sake!_

'I said I won't HIT you!' Severus said, his voice unnaturally high.

Poppy coughed slightly.

Instantly, Severus let go of Harry's shoulders, at a loss of what to do. He gave the medi-witch a pleading look and, not without a smile, she walked to his side, patting him on the shoulder. Severus rose and seated himself on the bed, watching the scene before him.

Poppy stood next to Harry who seemed to have taken no notice of her as of yet. Even now he seemed to be completely oblivious to her presence. He simply sat on the floor and stared into nothingness, his eyes cloudy.

With a groan, the medi-witch slowly seated herself next to the boy. There she sat and did nothing for a while. Severus didn't move a muscle as he watched the two of them.

After a while Poppy said in a conversational tone 'Sometimes we all get mad.'

Harry had started to rock back and forth slightly, yet there was no indication whether he was even listening.

'You know, sometimes there are days where I feel really exhausted and then even the tiniest mistake drives me angry. Such feelings often bottle up and at a certain point, that bottle is simply full.'

When the boy didn't react, Poppy gently reached for his hands that grabbed into the fabric of his trousers forcefully and patted them lightly.

'I think you did quite an impressive job.'

At this, the boy stopped rocking and withdrew his hands from her touch, crossing them into a tight hug around his own chest. Severus didn't miss the gesture.

'Indeed. I am impressed that you managed to tear apart such a big book. I might add that the sheets seem to have parted company with their binding for good!'

Poppy heard some shifting sounds that came from the bed. Severus had sat up straight and gave her an incredulous look.

Ignoring him profoundly, Poppy redirected her attention to the boy.

'You really found a way of channelling your frustration here! I must say that I am impressed.'

For the first time, Harry looked up. His eyes were teary and his voice was shaking when he finally spoke.

'Who are you?'

'Oh, my dear boy. I am sorry. My name is Poppy. I am the medi-witch of Hogwarts. I took care of you when Professor Snape over there brought you to the hospital wing after you had left the Room of Requirements.'

Harry scrutinized her carefully. 'So, you are a doctor?'

Well, normally Poppy Pomfrey certainly wouldn't have compared her healing skill to that of a non-magical doctor, considering their limited options, but as of now, the comparison surely sufficed.

'You might put it this way,' she nodded politely. 'Why did you hide underneath the bed?'

Slowly Harry leaned a little closer towards the friendly old woman and whispered

'Because Mr Snape will get mad.'

Poppy couldn't suppress a grin at that address. 'Does he look mad?' she asked, jerking her head towards the Potion's Master who now looked at them with an incensed look on his face.

'Erm…' Harry cringed as he met his guardian's gaze, and his voice ebbed away.

'Mind to tell me what happened then?' Poppy asked.

The boy shook his head ever so lightly.

'I came to check on you, Harry,' she continued unperturbed. 'Are you in any pain?'

Again, the boy shook his head.

'I will not bother you for long, but please do me the favour and lie down on the bed so I can check whether the medication has taken the desired effect. I just want to make sure that you are back to your best form.'

Instantly, Severus rose from the bed and retreated to a corner, making space for his little ward.

Slowly Harry lay down on his back, holding his breath. Severus noticed how the boy slowly lowered his body to the sheets as if anxious not to cause additional pain. And although he was certain that Poppy had healed Harry to the best of her ability, it seemed to be just one of those habits you couldn't shake off easily. Behaviour that had turned to habit because it had been resorted to so often, Severus thought with a lump in his throat. The boy was carefully watching every of the medi-witch's moves as she ran her wand across Harry's Body swiftly. 'A nice necklace you have got there,' she commented. It only caused the boy to grab the panther's fang and tear up, yet he didn't speak.

'Who gave it to you?'

Pressing his lips together, Harry's gaze wandered to the window.

With a sigh, Poppy finished her examination and looked at Severus who shrugged his shoulders.

'I can assure you that I have nursed him back to health and that, physically speaking, he is as good as new. As to the other issue –'

Hand upheld Severus silenced the medi-witch, nodding politely and happy that she appreciated Harry to be a difficult case. It helped to feel less inadequate. 'I will contact Bathilda tonight.'

'Oh, Severus!' Poppy cried out. She walked towards him and threw her arms around the Potion's Master. Mechanically, he patted her on the back.

With a look at Harry, the little witch added

'You are doing the right thing, my boy. Bathilda will be very pleased. I will find my way, don't worry!'

And with that, she walked out of the room, humming a little tune.

Severus looked at the boy who was still lying on the bed, grabbing his fang for solace. It pained him to see him like this. And there was something else. It wasn't jealousy. Severus Snape was not even capable of being jealous! Yet the feeling nagged him that, despite all his effort, Harry didn't even want to be here. All he wanted was to get back to the doctor!

When Severus crossed the space towards the bed in a few long strides, Harry jerked up, retreating to the far corner of the bed.

'What is it now?' Severus asked, cursing himself inwardly.

'I can feel that you are mad,' Harry whispered.

Severus sighed. Annoyed by the lack of his ability to conceal his feelings and frustrated by the obvious misinterpretation that had let the boy – yet again – to the assumption that he was in trouble, he was at a loss how to react.

'I am not mad.'

'Yes, you are.'

 _Stubborn child!_

'No backtalk, BOY!' he said, more sternly than he had wanted to.

Instantly, the boy sat up very straight, watching the man opposite him guardedly. 'I am sorry.'

Harry had just felt so lonely and even though his body didn't hurt anymore, his heart was aching horribly.

A miserable look appeared on the boy's face.

Severus took a deep breath, moved right up to the bed and, ignoring the violent flinching, pulled the boy into a tight hug. At first the stiff little body felt awkward in his arms, but after a while it relaxed. Slowly, he started to stroke Harry's hair.

Severus didn't know how much time had passed when suddenly a small voice said

'Sometimes I get so mad.'

Quietly, Severus kept stroking the boy's hair.

'Sometimes there are situations which remind me of some… of things… and it's like I can't do anything about it. It feels so real.'

'Yes, it does,' Severus heard himself say.

The boy started fumbling with the fabric of Severus' shirt. He ran his fingers across the seams as if trying to distract himself mechanically from some very unpleasant thoughts.

'Do you want to tell me about it?' Severus asked. He kept stroking the boy's hair and after an endless pause, a small voice spoke up.

'I read the book you gave me. But it makes no sense!'

'Are there words you don't understand?' Severus inquired carefully.

'No,' the boy replied and for a moment, Severus thought he had spotted a little indignation in the child's voice.

'It's the concept that's all wrong,' he continued.

With raised eyebrows, Severus pulled Harry gently away from his embrace, just enough to look him straight in the eyes. 'What do you mean by that?'

'They keep talking about magic as if it were the best thing in the world!'

With an unreadable expression, Severus mustered his little ward.

'And you assume that it is not?'

The boy hung his head. His thoughts weren't hard to guess. Severus sighed.

'Your uncle and aunt considered your abilities to be unnormal simply because they weren't capable of understanding them, let alone accept your gift!'

'Gift!' Harry snorted, 'Uncle Vernon kicked the crap out of me just for doing stuff I was never able to control!' Harry felt his guardian's muscles tense.

For a while, none of them moved. Then Harry felt how the soft stroking of his hair continued.

After a while, Severus said 'Your mother and your father were very talented wizards. You take after them and you possess great powers. Your aunt and your uncle have been too ignorant to understand and too jealous to appreciate it.'

'I don't care why they hate me,' Harry cried, 'they do and that's all that matters.'

'I am sure your aunt doesn't hate you,' Severus replied, trying to grab a hold of the little fist Harry had slammed into the blanket.

'You didn't mention Uncle Vernon,' Harry remarked. He wasn't stupid after all.

Severus sighed when Harry tried to withdraw his hand from his grip. Letting go, Severus slowly said 'What he did is inexcusable. I cannot possibly explain to you why he did to you what he did.'

'Did your father hate you, too?'

Severus cleared his throat. 'We are talking about you at the moment, young man.'

Harry swallowed hard. Happy that no more serious rebuke seemed to followed, he stiffly leaned against the chest of his new guardian again and felt relieved when the reassuring patting continued.

'Will you punish me for ripping your book?' Harry asked timidly after a while. For a moment, Severus' fingers halted in mid-air.

'I must admit that I am not happy about you ruining the book,' Instantly the boy hung his head. Severus lifted his chin with his hand. 'LOOK. AT. ME.'

Slowly, the boy lifted his gaze.

'I said that I am not happy about it. Yet I can understand your motivation, this time. Will you please give me some credit when it comes to telling apart blind vandalism from emotional destructiveness?'

Harry had started fumbling with his fang again. Severus sighed.

'It's easy. If you misbehave, there will be consequences. But I will carefully separate between any emotional trouble that has caused your behaviour and pure disrespect or insolence. Is that understood?'

'Yes, Sir,' the boy replied obediently.

'Tell me why you did it, though,' Severus finally asked. Confused, Harry looked at him.

'I thought I just did.'

'That was the reason that set you off. But you have never, or I am at least not aware of it, destroyed any property before. What made you change your mind?'

Harry felt uneasy. As if he was being lured into a trap. He wasn't sure whether he could truthfully answer or not. He had to think of Aunt Petunia's plants he had desired to crush so frequently. Actually he had wanted to let out his anger long before. He had just been too scared of the consequences! Certainly Uncle Vernon would have walloped him badly if he ever destroyed any of his possessions. But he couldn't tell Mr Snape that! Certainly he would think that Harry took advantage of the promise not to be hit, and then Mr Snape would probably recognise his mistake and change his mind.

A slight nudge shook Harry out of his daydreaming.

'Stop breathing so hard and start explaining.'

For a moment, Harry's lips moved in silence, then he shook his head.

'I don't want to pressure you then,' Severus finally said. 'But whenever you feel that this anger is rising inside you again, just come to see me and tell me about it.'

Slowly, Harry nodded as his guardian cast him a stern look.

'And I don't care if it's the middle of the night. You will come and see me. Is this understood?'

'Yes, Sir.'

'And Harry,' Severus finally said.

'Yes, Sir?'

'I am proud that you didn't create your sphere again.'

For a few seconds, the boy looked Severus straight in the eyes, his expression unreadable. Then, he carefully leaned against the chest of his new guardian again, closing his eyes as the patting on his back resumed.

x x x

I wish you all a peaceful Christmas time and a Happy New Year :-) Thanks for reading.


	22. Confrontation

Hi and welcome back. In the last chapter Severus realised that indeed he needs help when dealing with Harry's issues, and he learnt that there are several people gladly offering it. Yet, the way ahead is rocky as it takes time for trust to build. This chapter is somehow special as this is – I kid you not – the scene I had in mind when beginning to write this story. I hope you enjoy…

* * *

 **Please Come For Me - Chapter 22 – Confrontation**

Severus' body was tense. With a deadly stare he pinned the persons sitting opposite him to their chairs. Both seemed to fidget now and then, yet their looks were full of anger and despise.

'Now, now,' Bathilda said, raising her hands in an attempt of pacification, 'remember what we are here for. It is for the boy's sake!'

'Ha!' Vernon exclaimed. 'That _freak_ has cost me more things in life than he will ever possess, I dare assume!'

He was oblivious to the twitching in Severus' finger as he had yet again used that term.

Petunia, on the other hand, was fully aware of it and, probably due to that realisation, horrified. Her gaze hadn't departed from Severus once. Rigidly she sat in her chair, eying her opposite like prey its predator. Her fingernails were carved into the arms of her chair.

'Remember,' Bathilda reproached, 'you were only brought here because it will help the boy. This is not about your sensitivities, Vernon Dursley. So please, let's get back to our discussion.'

'What is there to discuss, woman?' Severus cut through her words quite harshly. 'He is a child abuser and to be treated as such! Oh, if you just let me –'

'Severus!' Bathilda shot him an angry look, but was outrun by Vernon on this matter.

'Ha!' he exclaimed yet again. 'That's what you call me? So tell me, why would someone like _you_ bother? It is none of your concern what I do to the boy, he belongs to me!'

Severus' eyes were now small slits. 'Such arrogance! How dare you assume possession over that boy, anyone for that matter?'

'Oh, shut up!' Vernon ignored his opposite's anger. 'You are giving your dramatic little role play way too much credit. You can't frighten me! It's not my fault that the stupid boy got himself into trouble again and again.'

At this Petunia shot her husband an anxious look, nudging his arm slightly. He slapped her hand away rather violently, causing her to flinch. Severus watched intently as Vernon just ploughed on.

'Like my sister always says, you have to have a firm hand with them or they will be out of bounds before you notice! It's all in the blood,' Vernon nodded, more to himself than anybody else. He seemed quite content as if that had settled the matter.

'You bastard dare talk about blood relations?' Severus seethed. 'He is your nephew! You were supposed to protect him! He never even got to know his parents!'

' _Oh_ ,' Vernon nodded slowly and some sickening smile spread on his beefy face. 'His parents just got what they deserved. His father –'

'Silence!' Severus thundered. He had sprung to his feet with such force that his chair fell to the floor.

Again, Petunia tucked at her husband's sleeve, horrified that he was talking himself into too much trouble, and was thanked for that by a vicious backhanded slap that hit her right across the face.

Severus' face hardened at the scene unfolding before his eyes, pressure building in his chest. Petunia clutched both hands to her nose, but a few traitorous drops had escaped and dripped to the floor. She still hid her face beneath her hands, but Severus could see her shoulders shaking lightly.

Vernon was now snickering, completely oblivious to his wife's sobbing. 'After all, the _freak_ deserved what he got! As to his mother –'

' _CRUCIO!'_

Even before Petunia had managed to flee from the table with a scream, Severus had sprung to his feet, causing his chair to topple over as he pointed his wand at Vernon. Never had he looked so murderous. He took tremendous pleasure in watching what was happening right before his eyes now.

Vernon had instantly collapsed in his chair and slid to the floor. Still screaming, Petunia edged away further from her husband whose body was reduced to flailing arms and legs.

'SEVERUS!' Bathilda shouted again, but he only jerked his head in anger and pointed his wand to the walrus writhing before his feet once more.

' _CRUCIO! CRUCIO!'_

Bathilda sighed. With a flick of her hand, the scene dissolved. Vernon, Petunia, the chairs, and the table disappeared.

Severus was breathing hard. Taking a look around the now empty Room of Requirements, his gaze halted before the robust little witch standing in one corner, shaking her head slowly.

'Well, not exactly what I had in mind, but nothing I didn't expect to be honest,' she sighed.

Severus rubbed his face with his hands, closing his eyes for a brief moment. Bathilda could only guess what thoughts were tormenting the soul of the troubled man momentarily.

After a few moments Severus said 'This won't work. I will never be able to do it. Not even for Harry's sake!'

Bathilda looked at him thoughtfully.

'It's not him you despise.'

'Oh yes, I do!' Severus objected.

'Let me finish,' Bathilda reproached. 'I _meant_ to say that it is the idea you are opposed to. It doesn't matter whether you confront a Vernon Dursely or a Herbert Hicklehump… you are facing a violent father _, and husband_ , and that's all you see.'

Unnerved by the constant therapist situation he found himself in so regularly as of late, Severus growled.

'That's all what he is.'

'That's all you have ever experienced,' Bathilda observed bluntly.

'Woman!' Severus groaned loudly, but his glare was not deadly anymore, it was rather weak.

'If you truly want to help Harry, you need to deal with your own emotional problems first.'

'Will you stop referring to any such things!' Severus exclaimed. 'I am not your patient here. This is about Harry!'

'Correct,' Bathilda said patiently. 'And if I had taken you and the boy to his relatives tonight, this is what would have happened.'

'Good!' Severus shouted. 'As that is what they deserve.'

Slowly, the old lady shook her head. 'And how exactly do you reckon would this help Harry to put his past behind himself? What signal would it send?'

'That damn abusers will get what they deserve!'

'No,' Bathilda simply stated. 'You would teach him that you are putting yourself above the law and that if something doesn't work out to your liking, rules don't apply to you anymore.'

 _This wasn't fair. This was simply not fair._

'You are twisting my words,' Severus said.

'No, Severus,' Bathilda comforted. 'And believe me, I want Vernon Dursley punished just as much as you do. But this is not about your revenge, it is about Harry getting a chance to snap shut a very long and sad book. And after all of this, you may realise at some point, that he is not the only victim here.'

Severus snorted. He was now leaning against a wall, arms crossed in front of his chest. His breathing had returned to a regular rhythm already.

Yet there was this constant scorn in his chest. Every time the boy had flinched, shied away, or braced for an anticipated blow, some anger had been added to that. It felt like he was going to explode, and for the first time in his life, he thought that he could imagine what it had to be like for Harry before his accidental magic took over. Watching the scene that had unfolded before his eyes just moments ago hadn't particularly helped, either.

Bathilda watched Severus carefully.

'You know,' she pondered, 'after all you might have been looking at the whole thing quite one-sidedly.'

Severus raised a brow, determined not to dignify the obvious with an answer.

'I suggest you come to my place and have a talk with Petunia. Harry would get a chance to see her and his cousin again.'

Shifting to his other foot, Severus looked at her intently. He knew that this old hag had planned this right from the start, and the only thing he hated even more was that he hadn't seen it coming!

He was not the type to admit an error easily, but he acknowledged cunning when he saw it, _and after all_ , the unnerving voice in his head said, _she might just have a point_.

'You really think this is a good idea? I am not sure whether Harry should be meeting his aunt and cousin already,' Severus said.

'And _I_ think,' Bathilda objected, 'that putting off the inevitable will only make it harder for him. There is no point in having him settle in and postpone what might disturb him later on.'

'So, you admit that he will be disturbed by it!' Severus spotted sarcastically.

'Oh, be realistic, Sev!' Bathilda was annoyed now. 'Who is twisting words here now? I am not saying that we will be in for a glossy family reunion. But after all, that's not the point.'

'What is the point then?' Severus snapped.

Bathilda pointed at the space where moments before Vernon Dursley had collapsed to the floor.

'The _point_ is that you do not give the boy enough credit for his strengths. Just because _you_ are not ready for it doesn't mean that _he_ isn't either.'

Grudgingly Severus had to admit that even in this outrageous accusation, there was a tiny shred of truth.

'Talk to her,' the old lady insisted. With a laugh she added, 'And trust me, she isn't keen on seeing you either.'

'Well, who would've thought?' The habitual snarl was back to Severus' voice, every cell in his body full of contempt. Yet he had to admit that the scene he had just observed had – for once in his life – thrown a different light on his impression of Petunia which he had considered valid until moments ago.

'Time to put aside the animosity then,' Bathilda said airily and with her small hand, she gestured towards the exit of the Room of Requirements.

'I will have to talk to Harry first,' Severus objected.

Bathilda nodded in approval but the Potion's Master had already turned on his heel and left the room without another word.

x x x

'You are a natural!' Poppy exclaimed full of appreciation. The boy beamed at her. Between the two of them a game of chess had been set up. The figures looked like they had already been passed through many hands by a lot of generations, yet it was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen.

Not only were the figures carved with such delicacy that spoke volumes of the heart's blood their creator must have poured into them, they were also moving!

It hadn't taken long for Poppy to explain the rules of this game to the bright child opposite her and since Severus had told her that he might take a while, she had decided to go for something not about to be finished in five minutes.

'I am threatening your queen!' the boy exclaimed cheerfully, nudging his horse across the squares as it had seemed reluctant to follow his command to threaten the king.

He looked up when the medi-witch lifted her finger in some sort of 'I told you so' gesture.

'What is it?'

'You moved well, but still you haven't considered that my bishop will be able to contain your horse.'

'It is too far away from it!' the boy objected.

'Maybe it is at the moment. But think ahead. What will I do when you threaten my queen?'

'You will move it sideways?'

'Correct. And the only available option is here,' the medi-witch pointed at a square closer to her own bishop. 'And when I do so, my queen will also threaten your own king. You won't be able to move him away without putting him in the way of my other figures. The only chance you have got is to block the king with your horse and then,' again she gestured towards her own bishop.

'Oh no!' Harry exclaimed. 'I will never learn this game!'

'You are doing brilliantly!' the medi-witch reassured. 'In fact, I cannot remember that I ever had a patient who learned so quickly. After all, not many boys your age were able to threaten my queen at all, and that is to say something if you allow me to take some pride in my chess play!'

She winked at him and the boy laughed heartily.

At this moment, Severus stepped into the infirmary. He noticed that he hadn't heard Harry laughing at all since he had been assigned to his care.

As soon as Severus entered the room, the boy beamed at his sight. Unwilling to ruin the happy moment, he decided to postpone his little talk with Harry and just sat down next to the boy and watched him play another game with Poppy, impressed by the child's play. Certainly it was far from perfect, but he noticed how the boy never made a mistake twice and how he seemed eager to learn. By the end of the fourth round, the medi-witch was sweating beneath her nurse's gear. After another five minutes, she had to admit defeat and congratulated her little opponent heartily.

Twinkling her eye at Severus, he just nodded in appreciation.

'I think we will be going now, Poppy,' he finally said, noticing the disappointment on the boy's face.

'Of course, Severus,' the medi-witch nodded. With a smile towards Harry she added

'And you should know that such a worthy adversary will always be welcome in my infirmary for another round of chess!'

The smile returned to the boy's face as he allowed his new guardian to steer him out of the hospital wing. Once they had left the school grounds, Harry felt how he was pulled into a tight hug and with a loud _crack!_ both Apparated back to Snape Manor.

x x x


End file.
